


Tale As Old As Time

by thelilacfield



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arranged Marriage, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, First Love, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-05-27 01:19:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 42,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15013565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: Twelve minutes. Twelve minutes is all that stands between her and being the firstborn child, being the heir to the throne.But in a magical moment at a masquerade, she thinks she has found the person who makes the ability to choose love over duty worth it.Until her brother's death rips her choice away from her and lands her in an arranged marriage to an infuriatingly attractive prince.





	1. never saw it coming

**A/N:** Here I am again, posting something that was intended to be a oneshot in multiple parts because it got far, far too long to be put out in one piece. Hopefully you will enjoy the escapism of a fairytale setting! This was written as a gift for a wonderful friend, but I hope everyone can enjoy it. Please let me know if you enjoy this first part of the journey.

* * *

Twelve minutes. Twelve minutes is all that stands between her and being the firstborn child, being the heir to the throne. That, and the simple fact that she was born a woman in a kingdom that simply cannot seem to tolerate the notion of a queen on the throne without a king. A kingdom that never allows her mother to forget she was a commoner lucky enough to be noticed by a prince, and was simply blessed by the powers that be to have been fortunate enough to win his heart. From the cradle, she is the one in the shadows, the one left at her mother's feet while the kingdom celebrates having a male heir within the first year of their new king's reign.

It doesn't matter to them that she is the kingdom's princess. Or that she and her twin brother will be the only children ever born to their parents, after their mother suffers a horse riding accident that she escapes with her life, but not her ability to bear children. Lurking in the corners of the palace, following the stable cat through the winding corridors and spiralling staircases while her brother is being groomed as the next king, she overhears advisors talk as if her father should separate from her mother and find a newer wife, one able to bear him more children. In case something should happen to his son. As if there is no daughter available to take the throne.

Those advisors assuage her childhood dreams of ascending to the throne and running a blissful kingdom. Men in expensive robes shot through with gold and silver, dripping venom in her father's ear, persuading him to increase the strength of his attacks in the wars that ever circle them. No, she'd rather be a princess. Enjoy the life she has been born into, and the luxury to choose. Her brother must be king - she can wander the grounds of the castle, befriend the servants, chase the horses and enjoy the luxury.

A last tug at the stays of her corset makes her gasp, involuntarily jerking against her mother's hands. "Oh, stop fidgeting, Wanda!" comes the inevitable exclamation, accompanied with another sharp tug.

"I think you've forced all the breath out of me, Mother," Wanda remarks, somewhat sourly. "This ridiculous night is meant for Pietro to find a bride, not for me to find a husband."

"That does not mean you don't need to look the part of a princess, my darling," her mother says, and gives Wanda a quelling look when she rolls her eyes. "Enough. You will not charm any of the young nobles flooding here tonight by acting like a child."

"I'm sixteen," Wanda snaps. "I'm not a child."

"You will always be my child," her mother says, but doesn't pursue the matter when Wanda scoffs. "You have the opportunity tonight to find someone. Wanda. Your brother will have to marry for gain, it's the only way to settle our relations with our neighbouring kingdoms. You, however - you have the luxury of being able to marry for love. Never take that for granted."

"The only people here tonight will be those interested in forging alliances with the future king," she says, straightening up against the boning of her corset and reaching for her mask. Delicate deep red silk, overlayed with black lace, shining in the candlelight, and she ties the ribbon carefully over the intricate twirls of her hairstyle, smoothing her skirts and glancing at herself in the mirror. Corset pulling her waist narrow, her skirts flowing out around her, hair tumbling dark over her pale shoulders. Sure to have her father's advisors whispering in his ear about his beautiful daughter and the advantages of an arranged marriage.

The ballroom is lit by the warm glow of a thousand candles, suspended in gold chandeliers, and her mother gravitates to her father's side, smiling into his eyes and chasing away the women far too young to be flirting with the king. Rolling her eyes at their low necklines and too-narrow waists, Wanda takes a glass from the gold tray of a passing server with their generic black masks, and goes to her brother, Pietro sprawled on a chair wrapped in silvery velvet in the corner with his boots kicked up on the table. "Father has certainly created quite the circus here," she says, and Pietro grins at her, lopsided, eyes gleaming.

"I would sit through a hundred nights of this if the women are always as beautiful," he says, shooting a lascivious look towards a pair of giggling young girls passing by, hair piled up in ringlets and dresses shimmering like jewels. "Not enjoying yourself?"

"Hardly," she scoffs. "Any man here is only interested in speaking with Father."

"Any of those men could complete the fantasy of those torrid romances I catch you reading," Pietro asks, arching an eyebrow at her, and she can feel a flush rise in her cheeks, willing herself not to let the embarrassment show in her eyes. "And I have spoken to a few young nobles, sister dear. Any one of them would be interested in the princess."

"Only because I'm the princess," she says, straightening up to stop the discomfort of her corset cutting into her. "Just once, I would like to dance with someone who simply thinks I'm interesting."

"Come find me after I've spoken to these women," Pietro says with a wry grin, and she smacks the back of his hand before walking away, letting a predator-eyed young woman in a scandalously low-cut gown take her place. Going instead to a quiet corner, alone with her own thoughts, all dressed up with no one to consider removing her mask for.

"May I have this dance?" The voice startles Wanda, looking up from tracing her fingertips around the edge of her wine glass to look up into brilliantly blue eyes behind a mask of deep green, interestingly made so as to appear metallic in the candlelight. Below the mask, the stranger is clothed in rich deep blue, like the sky at a point between dusk and blackest night. His accent is smooth, not that sharp tongue of her kingdom. A foreigner, brought to the castle by the promise of a ball.

"I suppose I have nothing better to do," she says, and stands carefully, mindful of her corset moulded so close to her skin, shaping her for an evening of this pretense. "Are you a dancer, sir?"

"I've been told my skills leave something to be desired," he says, and her cool facade cracks, allowing a small smile to pull at the corners of her mouth. "Forgive me, but I simply saw you from across the way and I find you to be the most beautiful woman in this room. I thought there would be no harm in asking for a dance."

"There isn't," she says, and takes his hand. In the first moment of contact, a warmth bleeds between their skin, like a spark. As if she has suddenly become one of the heroines of the novels discreetly passed to her from the servants of the castle, a wench in a corset fainting over the affections of a handsome man with a dark past.

The floor is occupied by couples in the late hour, some behaving in a manner inappropriate for such a prestigious occasion, and Wanda would breathe a sigh of relief, if not for her impossibly tight corset, when her stranger's hands remain solidly in appropriate positions. "So what brings you to this ball?" he asks her.

He doesn't recognise her as the princess of the castle they stand within. Of course not. Pietro is the heir to the throne, the known face, not her. A foreigner would never know her face, and even if they did her mask covers her most recognisable features. A thousand women with green eyes and dark hair exist in the world. It's egotistical to assume that anyone might recognise her. "Simply looking to enjoy an evening at the expense of the kingdom," she answers, and his smile beneath his mask sets something in her chest fluttering.

"You're not here looking to win the heart of the prince?" he asks, and the mere thought makes disgust fill her in a way that probably flashes very obviously across her face.

"Trust me, that is one reason I am not here," she says, and for a moment it seems as if some seductress takes over her mind, and she smiles up at him and says, "The prince is not my type."

"You would be the only woman here tonight who thinks that," he says, and though he seems to be joking she can sense an underlying sadness to his words.

"Any woman would be a fool to pursue the prince above any of the others here tonight," she says, and she knows she's being flirtatious but can't bring herself to care much what others think. Only a few people know it's her behind the mask, and most of them are occupied steering eligible princesses towards where Pietro is holding court. "I happen to have it on good authority that he is not the man girls might want to marry."

"He will mature when he takes the throne," he says, as if he's someone with knowledge of these worldly things. "After all, he is only sixteen."

"As am I, and I would be insulted if someone insinuated I am even half as promiscuous or entitled as the prince," she says, bitterness winding its way into her words, and the stranger's gaze on her is half delight and half utter shock that anyone would dare to speak ill of their prince. "How old are you to know this?"

"Seventeen," he says, and she can't help a giggle.

"And I'm sure you are so much more mature than you were a year ago," she teases, and there's the same smile below the mask, making her heart speed a little beneath the boning of her corset. "I'm sure you were never promiscuous."

"You'd be right," he says, with a bashful duck of his head. "I'm afraid that there are few women in my kingdom looking to target someone who is not the direct heir to the throne."

A thrill runs through Wanda hearing that he is also not the direct heir to his throne, knowing he will also have the luxury of marrying for love, not for political gain. "I'm afraid to say it, sir, but I believe the women in your kingdom to be rather idiotic if they would overlook you simply because you're not the heir to your throne," she says, moving closer to him, her heart hammering when their bodies meet. "Anyone with true knowledge of royal bloodline would know those who are not the direct heir have far more freedom to fall in love and choose marriage for themselves."

"You know, it's odd," he says, looking down at her with something in his eyes that she can't read, but desperately hopes is something of a spark of feeling, a beginning. "That's always what I'm told if I express bitterness about not being the heir. The ability to choose love is a powerful one."

"Love is special," she says, smiling up at him. "I can only pity the prince that he will never be able to choose a wife based on love alone."

"When you put it that way, it does seem that the benefits of being royal without being an heir outweigh the bitterness of being sidelined," he says, and she grins. His fingers fan out across the small of her back, making it seem as if she can feel the fire of his touch even through her heavy gown and her corset, and his eyes are very blue in the candlelight, the colour she imagines the ocean she has only seen in dreams to be. "You know, you are extraordinarily beautiful."

"Oh...thank you," she says softly, heat creeping up the back of her neck. Glancing up at him, hair gold like the sun and eyes blue like the sky, his fingers long and gentle at the small of her back, and his smile below his mask sweet and tempting, she swallows nervously and says, "You are very handsome."

"You are an excellent dancer," he says, and she sways closer to him, the first collision of their bodies making her breath catch, feeling how long and lean he is, almost cradling her, the candles burning low and no one looking their way. The shadows creeping out from the walls, tempting bad behaviour. Encouraging it, even. Calling out to her, asking her to slink into the shadows with a stranger like in the stories, melt into him and indulge herself.

"Come with me," she says, and draws him backwards with her, step by nervous step, into the liquid embrace of the shadows. As the darkness closes over them, masking her identity even better than before, she lifts a hand to his face, feeling the warmth of his skin, the shape of his cheekbone, and the breath rushes out of him in a shudder. "I would like to kiss you," she says, trying to project a confidence she doesn't feel into her voice, and his skin warms with a blush beneath her hand.

"I would like that too," he says, and she rises onto her tiptoes to bring their mouths together, a tentative press of their lips. His are soft and warm against hers, tempting her to tangle her arms around his neck as his circle her waist, bringing their bodies together as she opens his mouth against his. Kissing him like she's read in novels where hearts skip and chests heave and tongues tangle, where rogues with devilish grins tear corsets in half and rip skirts. Aching to understand, to pull away the layers of his clothes and lose herself in him, in sensation, in kisses that have her head spinning and turn the world to bright light.

He ends the kiss first, leaving a hollow of disappointment in her chest, and the sound of his breathing sets her alight, shallow and broken and sharp. His hands still clasped to her back, and in the shadows she sees the slant of his smile. "I thought of that the moment I saw you," he says, and she smiles bashfully. "But I never imagined it would be like  _that_."

"I would like to keep kissing you," she says, and he lowers his head to continue where they left off, and somehow his hand is in her hair and she's reaching up to pull the jewelled pins away and let her hair fall free over her shoulders, and she's clutching at the broadness of his shoulders and breaking the kiss to say, "You must fence."

"Swim, I live not far from one of the more private beaches in the kingdom by the sea," he corrects, and she imagines shimmering water, blue as it is in the paintings, wishes to see it. "Do you fence?"

"Not much else to learn in a kingdom surrounded by mountains," she says, and wistfulness weaves into her words when she says, "I've always dreamed of seeing the sea."

"I would take you to see it," he says, smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear in a tender gesture, and she kisses him again, dreams coming together in her mind. Golden stretches of sand, dotted with delicate seashells, and the sea warm against her bare feet, and this man's hand in hers, his eyes bright, and perhaps he would roll her into the sand and kiss her like he is now, such passion in his hands tight against her back and his tongue against hers, making her tremble with want.

The crash of a gong drags her away from her stranger, and she blushes violently to see her father standing from his throne, spreading his hands in a gesture of goodwill and declaring, "It has been a wonderful evening, my friends, but I'm afraid even a king cannot dance all night. If you would be so kind as to return to your carriages, my staff will ensure your safety. Thank you all for attending this celebration and assisting my son in finding a wife!"

"I must go," her stranger says, his fingers tangled in hers, a smile on his lips swollen with kissing, a sight that makes her flush. "It's a day and a night's journey for me to get home." Raising her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm as he looks at her with dark eyes and her stomach twists with desire, he asks, "May I escort you out?"

She wants to. Wants to remove her mask and let him see who she is and peel his from his face. Tangle their hands together and walk in the moonlight. Perhaps not let him leave. Take him upstairs to her chambers, tumble him into her bed, let him rip her corset in half and make her sigh and whimper. But she can see her mother standing, setting her hand in the crook of her father's elbow, searching the room for her children, and she pulls her hand from her stranger's grasp. "I'm sorry," she says, and turns away, the sharp edges of her hair pins digging into her palm, sadness a swelling heavy presence in her chest.

Her handmaiden is waiting for her after she's said her obligatory goodnight to her parents, bouncing to her feet and beaming as Wanda turns to let her unbutton the dress. "How was the ball?" she asks. "You look so beautiful, you must have enchanted everyone in the room. Did you meet anyone?"

Unwrapping the knot in the ribbon of her mask, Wanda crumples the silk onto her dressing table, and sees the abject sadness in the eyes of the girl staring back at her, barely noticing fingers picking at the stays of her corset, freeing her enough to take a deep, shuddering breath. "Could you please leave me?"

"Oh, of course, your highness," comes the warm voice, and the door closes sharply behind Wanda. Slipping out of her gown, she lets the heavy material pool around her feet, swaps her delicate petticoat and corset for her simple nightgown, and dims the candles.

Her stranger twines through her dreams. Blue eyes. Strong hands that draw sounds from her lips that she'd be ashamed of making outside of dreams. Broad shoulders beneath her hands, her nails drawing pale marks into his skin that slowly turn red. Kisses at her jaw, her neck, her collarbones, a finger hooking into the neckline of her nightgown and pulling it taut,  _tearing_ , and she wakes slick with sweat and breathing shallowly.

* * *

"I love this colour on you," Mantis says brightly, pulling a bright white ribbon tighter around Wanda's waist, pulling the petals of gold silk tight to her corset-moulded body, smoothing the wrinkles out with deft hands. "You'll have every man in the kingdom dropping dead at your beauty."

"You always were so dramatic," Wanda says, but returns her handmaid's smile in the mirror. With diamonds at her neck and the neckline daringly low, the bodice clinging to her curves, she knows she looks beautiful. Recognises how the gold pairs with her eyes, how bright it seems against her pale skin, the contrast of the glowing gown and her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. See herself how someone else might see her. Imagine the glow in blue eyes that still fill her idealistic dreams, long fingers on her back, tracing the dip of her neckline.

"Fitting over," Mantis says, and Wanda sighs in relief, letting the silks fall into Mantis' hands and exchanging them for a plain green gown, something light and simple for the days when she doesn't leave the castle. "So...who is the dress for?"

"I don't know what you mean," Wanda says lightly, coiling her diamond necklace onto her dressing table and trading it for the usual gold chain that once belonged to her grandmother.

"Oh please, Wanda, I know there has to be a story here!" Mantis says, and Wanda smiles helplessly. "I know there's a reason you asked for a new gown to be made, even though you complained endlessly about the fittings for gowns for Pietro's wedding and his coronation. And a story behind you asking for a trip to the kingdom by the sea for your twenty-first birthday."

"Can you keep a secret?" Wanda asks, and Mantis' eyes light up. "Even though my parents are your king and queen and you should never lie to them?"

"Oh, I would never tell them your secrets!" Mantis says, as if scandalised by the very thought. "Tell me the story!"

"Remember the first ball to find Pietro a wife? The masquerade? When he slept with the daughter of a nobleman from the desert kingdom and Father's advisors shouted at him for risking an illegitimate pregnancy?" Wanda asks, and Mantis nods eagerly. "I met someone too." Mantis doesn't bother to restrain a squeal, even as Wanda shushes her. "He was from the kingdom by the sea, and connected to the royal family there. We never took off our masks. I didn't tell him my name, or ask for his. But we kissed and it...it was like something from a story."

"This is so  _romantic_!" Mantis squeals, and Wanda shakes her head fondly. But then her face falls, and she says, "How can you be sure he was connected to the royal family? He could easily have been lying to try and get a princess into bed."

"I didn't tell him I was a princess," she says, warmed by the memory almost five years old now, the candlelight on blue eyes and gentle hands on her back.

"Then perhaps he was tempting you to bed by lying about being royal," Mantis says. "Men do that, you know. I've seen Scott down at the tavern a hundred times, telling any pretty little thing he can persuade to listen that he's a cousin of the royal family."

"I'm sure Pietro would be honoured to be used as a part of someone else's routine to persuade women into bed," Wanda says with an arch of her eyebrow, and Mantis giggles. "I know he wasn't lying."

"Your family does have rather the reputation for being oblivious to anything bad when confronted by a pretty face," Mantis says. "Your father was having a marriage arranged for him when he fell for a commoner and ran away with her within the month. And well, Crystal may be of noble birth and very beautiful, but I don't think she's a very warm person. And I'm sure she's been cheating on Pietro."

"You're not the only one," Wanda says, and Mantis' eyes widen, scandalised. "And you know how I can see through people. Through their lies. That boy wasn't lying to me."

"If you're sure," Mantis says, and she glances down at her hands before she nervously asks, "So...was he a good kisser?"

"Just wonderful," Wanda says dreamily, and Mantis giggles. "Like one of those novels you slip me."

"Did he make your heart beat faster in your heaving bosom?" Mantis asks shyly, stumbling over the words, and Wanda can feel a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Did he make you tremble with a desire you'd never felt before? Did he tear your skirt from your legs and press you up against the wall and make you feel new and delicious things?"

"Now I know what you do when I don't need your service," Wanda says dryly, and Mantis flushes. "If only my life was one of those stories. I would have seen him again if it was."

"He never came back?" Mantis asks, sounding so disappointed, and Wanda shakes her head, feeling absurd tears prickling her eyes. She's done more than her fair share of crying over a stranger she knew for barely more than an hour. "Why not?"

"I don't know," she says. "We only had one more ball before Pietro asked for only women to be invited. We were supposed to be travelling to the kingdom by the sea for our eighteenth, he promised, but he met Crystal just before and suddenly I wasn't important anymore." She can't help the bitter sting in her words, and Mantis hooks her chin over Wanda's shoulder as she hugs her tightly, her dark hair soft against Wanda's neck. "But I'll go there alone now. To speak with the king and queen there about a trade alliance, and I'll be able to search for my stranger."

A knock at the door distracts her from fantasy, and she opens the door to their butler, head bowed and face solemnly set. "Your Highness, His Majesty requires you in the blue drawing room," he says. "Amanda, dear, your presence is required in the staff drawing room. As quickly as possible." The tone of his voice sets Wanda in a panic, brushing Mantis' concerned look aside and running from her chambers, down the stairs in her plain shoes to the drawing room.

Her mother is crying, wretched sobs muffled in her father's shoulder, clothed all in black. Like the day her grandmother died, and fear clenches cold at Wanda's heart, like claws in her chest. Her father's hand is on her mother's back, caressing in soothing circles, and his eyes are misty with sadness. "Wanda, my dear, sit," he says, and Wanda almost falls into the nearest chair, hands shaking. "I'm afraid there's been a terrible accident." He points to the man at the corner of the room, a broad-shouldered man in gleaming silver-white armour, who nods at them. "You know Brock, one of Crystal's guards? He rode the whole night to get here to us."

"What happened?" Wanda asks, and hears her voice remarkably steady, as her mother lets out another terrible splinter of a sob.

"An accident," her father says, clutching tighter at his wife, eyes gleaming with fresh tears. "In the mountains where Pietro was meant to meet Crystal and her guards halfway and escort her to the palace to finish the wedding arrangements. A horse spooked, or a wheel on the carriage broke, no one is sure exactly what happened. But they fell. Most guards paused to take Crystal's body back to her home kingdom. Brock has brought Pietro's body back to us so we can bury him."

"My baby boy, my  _son_ ," her mother chokes out, and Wanda is so cold. Numb. A soul cleaved suddenly in two.

"His neck was broken in the fall," Brock says, voice slow and deep and solemn. "There was nothing we could do."

"We understand that," her father soothes, and a tear slips down his cheek as he says, "At least it was a quick death. Merciful."

"What happens now?" Wanda asks, and she sounds so strong. Not like someone who is crumbling inside.

"My advisors have scheduled the funeral and sent out invitations," her father says, hand still moving in circle on his wife's back, mechanical. His eyes glimmer with tears and he swallows thickly before he says, "On the day our boy should've been married."

"But what about his coronation?" she asks, thinking of the waiting crown, the throne that her father will soon leave, the thousands of people ready to flood to the castle to witness their new king recite his vows to the kingdom. "Who's the heir now?"

"Isn't that obvious, my dear?" her father asks, and he's looking at her with so much sad resignation in his eyes. "It has to be you."

A faint, low buzzing sound in her ears. The distinct feeling that she might faint. Like the day her horse bolted and she fell and the ground swallowed her up for a moment. She remembers it, the frantic yelling of the horsemaster, and the snorting of another horse skidding to a halt next to her, Pietro frantically begging her to open her eyes. His hand on her forehead, and his familiar face when she blinked herself back into reality. And now he's  _gone_. He's gone, and she will be queen.

"Excuse me," she says, tight and fragile, and leaves the room. The gates have been locked. The candles dimmed. Bright tapestries and portraits covered in dark velvet. The castle is in mourning.

Mantis is sitting in the staff drawing room, between Scott and Drax, their horsemaster. Wanda beckons her with shaking fingers, and her handmaiden obeys, leaving the two men and rushing to her side, a hand on her shoulder moving her to the servant staircases, dimly-lit and worn stone steps, sitting her down in a flurry of smoothing her skirts. "Pietro's dead," Wanda says, and her voice doesn't sound like hers. Dull and quiet and broken. The words of a shattered soul. "He's dead. And I'm going to be queen."

A hand curving gently over her arm is enough to break her. Tears rise in her throat, and her jagged sobs echo around the stairwell, Mantis gazing at her in concern as she falls to pieces. So broken she can never be put back together quite the same as she was before.

* * *

Smoothing the silk of her sleeves flat against her skin, Wanda stares herself down in the mirror, the redness in her eyes standing out even stronger in her blanched face. With her hair drawn back severely and the high neckline of her black dress, she looks older than her years in the mirror. Someone who has suffered severely. Clothed all in black, attaching her long cloak to the silver fastenings at her shoulders, the subtle overlay of the kingdom's crest shimmering in the dimmed candlelight. Today is not a day for brightness and boasting of their kingdom. It's a day of mourning.

Her parents are waiting at the bottom of the staircase, a delicate dark silk veil hiding her mother's features, and her father in his ceremonial crown, the sword of the kingdom encased in black leather at his hip. "Your dress is stunning," he says, the usual compliments, but his voice is weak and his smile is worn.

"I've missed the sword," Wanda says in an attempt to lighten the moment, but neither of her parents even smiles. Their eyes stay dull.

"There are so many people here," her mother says, voice high and tremulous. "They all knew our boy. They knew he was  _good_ , and just, and he would have made a great king. He  _should_  have made a great king."

Her father turns to comfort his wife, running soothing fingers through her hair, and Wanda leaves her parents to their private moment of grief. Goes to the front of the chapel, the stained-glass windows depicting the soaring mountains that surround their kingdom, and stares at the lilies climbing white over the dark oak of Pietro's coffin, their sickly-sweet scent like a fog in the air. Glances at the seats reserved for castle servants, all in their best clothes, heads bowed. Drax is openly crying into his hands, their cook who served Pietro's whims as he grew red-eyed, his manservant pale and trembling.

"Wanda?" She looks up to a familiar face, Thor's hair braided in the traditional style of mourning in his kingdom, black cape over one shoulder, sadness in his eyes and Jane's hand in the crook of his elbow, her dress intricately patterned with silver thread bright as the stars. "The Lady Jane and I are so sorry for your family's loss, Your Highness."

"Please, Thor, there's no need for titles between friends," she says, an attempt at lightness. "I hear you two are officially betrothed at long last."

"Gossip travels fast," Jane says, arching an eyebrow, and Wanda cracks more of a smile than she has for days. "His father doesn't approve, of course. There's no pleasing the great King Odin."

"My father will be disappointed," Wanda says, giving Thor a pointed look. "I do believe he's been hoping to betroth you to me since we first met."

"Loki is still available for marriage if your father is anxious for an Odinsson," Thor says, mirth making his eyes shine, and Wanda grimaces and shakes her head. "Shame. I'd rather have you for a sister-in-law than one of the noblewomen my mother keeps trying to have Loki show an interest in."

"We should find our seats, darling," Jane says, and the way Thor looks at her is everything Wanda has ever dreamed of. A happy ending, wrapped up in a single glance. "Find us afterwards, Wanda. We've seen Natasha around too, and Peter will inevitably swan in a little delayed. We haven't all been together in a long time."

"Of course, I look forward to catching up," Wanda says with a polite nod, and turns back to Pietro's coffin rather than watch the couple walk away. Seeing them in step, so in love, only serves to make her jealous. And it isn't a day to think of herself.

The priest stands over the coffin, talks of wasted years and lost lives and good hearts, and Wanda tries to sit straight-backed and still, not to slump or fidget. Her mother hasn't stopped crying, her face hidden in her father's shoulder, while he sits square-shouldered and resolute. Staring at the coffin that seems too small to contain everything her brother was, his mile-wide rebellious streak and relentless promiscuity and too-big heart, she tries to cry. But she only feels hollow.

Even as the lilies are gathered into bouquets and the coffin is borne out to the gardens to be buried among the carefully-tended roses, pale blue as the mountain skies, she is silent. Her eyes dry. Lowering her head as her brother disappears into the earth forever, her father's hand finding hers and squeezing tight. In truth, all she wants is to get away. And when they arrive to the ballroom, draped in black for the wake, she leaves her parents to the rulers of other kingdoms and their own grief and goes to her friends, princes and princesses and the children of nobles she's known for years.

Mantis follows nervously in her wake, and tugs on her sleeve, and Wanda follows her handmaiden's gaze to the corner of the room, where a familiar redhead is waiting, her dark dress appearing to constructed of chainmail. "Go," she says with an encouraging smile, and Mantis rushes away from them to Nebula's arms.

"Aren't they sweet?" comes Peter's inevitable observation, wry humour twined through his voice, and Wanda joins her friends, immediately noticing the hand not occupied with holding a wine glass wrapped around Gamora's waist.

"You're one to talk, shacking up with one of your guards. Quill," Natasha observes dryly, and turns to Wanda while Peter is still mouthing apoplectically. "How are you holding up, highness?"

"My brother is dead and I've been thrust into the throne," Wanda says in answer, and Natasha grimaces and hands her a glass of wine in consolation.

"Any word from the Moon Kingdom on the arrangements for Crystal's funeral?" Thor asks, and Wanda shakes her head.

"The king has cut off all contact with my father," she says, rolling her eyes. "They blame  _us_  for their daughter's death. They rejected the invite to his funeral and we're not invited to hers."

"Good riddance," Peter scoffs, taking a long drink of wine and pulling Gamora flush against his side, the way they gaze at each other making heat creep up the back of Wanda's neck. "Everyone knows you should never trust anyone from the Moon Kingdom."

"Pietro fell for her," Wanda says stubbornly. "She can't have been all bad."

"Pietro had terrible taste," Natasha says haughtily. "Always wanting the ones that didn't want him. Crystal was a particularly bold and bad choice."

"We mustn't speak ill of the dead," Thor says solemnly, and misery takes grip of the group. The fog hangs over them, the knowledge that one of their number is gone from the world forever, will never return to their lives. They should have next seen each other at his coronation, not his funeral. They'd imagined how they would each spend his wedding, Peter inevitably worse than the rest of them at holding his drink, stumbling over himself and flirting too blatantly with Gamora and having to be prevented from causing strife between kingdoms with his behaviour. It shouldn't be the way it is now.

"Wanda?" Her father's voice pulls her from the knot of her friends, and he looks so solemn that she has to follow him. "My advisors wish to see you. They are in the red meeting room."

Outside of the main rooms of the castle, there are no black silks, the walls of the meeting room as red as ever, the long table stretching through the centre of the narrow room, and her father's advisors clustered together, the black of their mourning clothes making them appear a flock of ravens in the candlelight, their eyes narrowing at her. "Your Highness," the leader says, arching a silvering eyebrow at her. "Our sincere apologies for having to deal with this unpleasantness in a time of mourning."

"Perhaps it is an ideal distraction, Sir Ross," Wanda says, taking her seat at the head of the table, looking around at the men of the room with lined foreheads and severe eyes. "What is the issue, gentlemen?"

"I must be blunt, princess," Ross says, straightening in his chair. "You cannot rule this kingdom alone. Your people are mourning their potential king, charismatic and making an advantageous marriage which would no doubt leads to healthy heirs. They will not take kindly to an unmarried queen taking his place."

"I will make them see I am just as good a ruler as my brother would have been," Wanda says defiantly, raising her chin, and the advisors murmur amongst themselves.

"Wanda, dear, that's not what we are suggesting," her father says, and something about the solemnity in his eyes makes her nervous. "The most politically advantageous move for you is to marry as quickly as possible. And as you have never been betrothed, we think the quickest path to having a queen and a king to please our subjects is an arranged marriage."

" _What_?" Her voice is ice-cold, sharp, and her fingers curl into fists beneath the table, anger churning in her gut. "No. I won't marry someone I've never met for political gain. The kingdom sees me on the throne alone or they have no ruler."

"You cannot issue an ultimatum like that, princess," Ross says, and Wanda has never hated someone so strongly, making her throat dry and her tongue thick in her mouth, unspeakably furious. "You must marry to take the throne."

"I  _won't_!" she says, almost a shout, and her father's hand is on her shoulder, gripping her a little too tight to be soothing.

"We have found a match," he says, and there's a thin thread of desperation in his voice, pleading with her to understand. "From the royal family of the kingdom by the sea. He has a reputation for being kind and understanding, and he isn't in line for his own throne so there will never be conflict. We've invited him to meet with you."

"No!" She's standing, her chair toppling backward, and she is fire and fury and sparks, eyes flashing at her father. "I wanted to marry for love! You of all people know how that feels! I won't do this, I  _won't_!"

"You must," her father says desperately, but she tears her hand away when he tries to take it. "Wanda, I know this is not what you wanted. It's not what I wanted for you. But it has to be done."

"How can you side with these men?" she hisses in loathing, and hurt paints her father's face. "They lost their respect for you when you married for love. They've always been disappointed that Pietro's twin wasn't another healthy boy and they were stuck with me instead. They tried to persuade you to divorce Mother when she couldn't have any more children."

"Enough, Wanda," he says sharply. "You will meet with this man. You will marry him. You cannot dwell in fantasies anymore. You are an adult, the future queen of a kingdom, not the child who met a stranger in the corner of a ball and thought it love."

The words are worse than a slap to the face, and she sharpens her gaze on her father. "I hope you know you've destroyed my life," she snaps, and storms out of the room, diverting to the servant staircase and returning alone to her room.

She lies sobbing her cracked heart out into her pillows until Mantis finds her hours later, whispering soothing nonsense as she brushes her hair straight and silky and helps her into her nightgown. Lies in the dark and thinks of blue eyes disappearing from her fantasies. She can never have that now.

Her stranger is gone. The dream has faded to shadow.

* * *

Trailing into the castle defiantly out of schedule with the rest of the people there, servants racing back and forth armed with silks and flowers ready to welcome the delegation from the kingdom by the sea, Wanda lifts her chin when her mother advances on her, disapproval in her eyes. "How could you go out riding on a morning so important, Wanda?" she sighs out, rubbing at a smudge of dirt on Wanda's cheek and shaking her head over her threadbare red riding coat.

"It seems being rebellious is the only way to show you and Father how against this marriage I am," Wanda says, folding her arms over her chest, and her mother looks at her so sadly that frustration spikes sharp in her chest.

"I know, sweetheart, believe me, I do," she says, and Wanda scoffs. "Your father and I never wanted this for you. But it's what must be done for the kingdom to trust you. Perhaps you could grow to love this man."

"I could never love a husband handpicked for me by a group of senseless old men," Wanda snaps, and storms upstairs, finding Mantis waiting anxiously in her chambers, the dress that was being woven for Pietro's wedding repurposed to become a gown in which to greet the stranger who will become her husband.

"Can I braid your hair?" Mantis asks tentatively as Wanda throws her coat to the corner with far more force than necessary, hearing the clunk of the gold buttons colliding with the stone. Dabbing the sweat from her face and neck and arms with a wet cloth, she sits down at her dressing table and Mantis moves quickly, weaving a thread of gold into her hair with the braid. "Are you alright, Wanda?"

"I don't want to meet him," she says dully, a woman with sad eyes and anger in the set of her mouth looking back at her from the mirror. "If I meet him, this all becomes real. The story I never wanted to be a part of becomes my life. I can never find my stranger and know who he was under that mask."

"This isn't what any of us wished for you," Mantis says, coiling her braid into an intricate style flashing with gold. "But you'll always have me, Wanda. I would never tell your parents or this man anything you say to me."

"Thank you," Wanda says softly, sudden tears prickling her eyes, and straightens up. "Help me dress? I should just get this done with."

Mantis laces her carefully into a corset, pulling her in at the waist, more slender than she was before Pietro died, weight lost to hours spent in contemplation, forgetting the time. Her gown is the deep red of the kingdom's crest, embroidered with bright gold, the neckline just low enough to draw the eye. The family rubies rest around her neck, lighting her face with the reflection of the candlelight, and with her hair drawn up and her eyes glittering green she looks stunning. Sure that the men in the group from the kingdom by the sea will all be nudging the prince who has her hand and smirking, excited to see how well someone might do from an arranged marriage.

"Perfect," Mantis says as she carefully slides a tiara among Wanda's braids, curlicues of gold wrapped around black pearls, the same tiara she's worn to official occasions since she was fifteen. "You look beautiful, Wanda. You really do."

"I should've worn this for Pietro's wedding," she says sadly. "And then I would've gone to the kingdom by the sea. In gowns of gold and blue and green to match the sand and the ocean. Searched for my stranger and told him I've thought of him every day for the past five years. That's what I wanted. Not this." She tugs at her skirts in frustration, the embroidery flashing in the light

"Princess?" comes the question from the doorway. She takes a steadying breath, tries to return Mantis' reassuring smile, and leaves her chamber. Lifting her skirt over the stone stairs and down to the ballroom, her parents waiting for her in their ceremonial clothes.

"You look stunning, sweetheart," her mother says, but Wanda merely stands in silence, refusing to speak. Simply watching the door as it swings open and a group of perfect strangers walk in.

"May I present King Anthony Stark of the Ocean Kingdom," comes their butler's voice, and Wanda gazes at the man who walks in, dark hair shining, clothes flashing gold, bowing extravagantly low to kiss her mother's hand in greeting, and the butler's voice is thinner as he adds, "And his lady wife, Queen Virginia."

"I'm Tony and she's Pepper to you, King Django, Queen Marya," Anthony says, and Wanda can see her father's eyebrows rise at the lack of decorum. The Ocean Kingdom is one of the newer kingdoms, formerly held by the Forest Kingdom and a tyrannical king, and it's clear that they don't hold themselves to the same standards as the more ancient kingdoms. "This beauty must be your daughter."

"Behave, Tony," his queen says, red hair spilling free over her shoulders above a bright blue gown, and gives Wanda a smile of disarming warmth as she takes her hand. "Princess Wanda, you look extraordinary. Your family have certainly gone above and beyond to receive us."

"Allow me to introduce you to my son, Wanda," Anthony says with a mile-wide searchlight of a grin, and holds out a hand to a man absorbed in the crowd. Golden-haired and blue-eyed, clothed in dark blue shot through with silver, standing a head above his father. "Princess, meet prince."

Wanda gives the prince an up and down glance, raising her chin defiantly when he takes a step towards her. When she looks at his eyes, she sees thunderous anger there, and hastily changes her gaze. "I'm Victor," he says, and holds out a long-fingered hand. "But you may call me Vision if that's what you prefer."

"Wanda," she says icily, refusing to shake his hand. Even for appearance's sake. Despite her mother's pleading look.

"Well, if this circus is over, I will be taking my leave," Vision says sharply. "Perhaps your butler might show me to my chambers, Your Highnesses?"

"Oh, of course," Wanda's father says hastily, and Wanda's betrothed storms out of the room, not even looking at her as he passes. After a moment of searching eye contact in the party from the Ocean Kingdom, a young man with dark curls detaches himself from the group and follows after Vision's footsteps.

"This is awkward," comes a dry observation, and a dark-skinned man with an irresistibly charming smile approaches Wanda, taking her hand from her side to shake. "Hello princess, I'm Sam, head of Vision's guard. Since my prince is sulking, it falls to me to do the honour of meeting you correctly. I love the red on you, you look stunning. But we knew that, from your portraits. There's been plenty of whispering about which prince would be lucky enough to have your hand. Quite the honour you picked my shy idiot of a friend."

"I didn't pick him," she says coldly, but even that can't seem to put Sam off.

"He blushed something fierce when the letter came confirming your engagement, when he first saw the portrait," he says. "Then he went off sulking down by the water. Still mooning over some old flame that got away, it's just ridiculous, he never even glances twice at all the princesses and noble ladies he meets. Lucky to be the head of his guard, means I get to sweep up the leftovers." Giving Wanda a grin, he says, "Too bad you're marrying him. Guess that means you're putting up with the idiot forever."

" _Sam_ ," Anthony says, and it would be a warning if not for his grin and the mirth dancing in his eyes. "Stop trying to undo this match just because you're used to sleeping with all the women Vision doesn't want."

"Whatever you say, majesty," Sam says, and winks at his king, and Anthony rolls his eyes. "Suppose I should go check on Vision before he spends too long pitying himself."

"My apologies the transition isn't smoother, princess," Anthony says, spreading his hands wide in a gesture of surrender. "My son was opposed to the marriage, even to help out a kingdom in strife. Didn't seem to care that you were the prize of agreeing to the arrangement."

"Perhaps because I'm not a prize to be won, Your  _Majesty_ ," Wanda snaps with as much contempt as she possibly can, and turns on her heel despite her father's apoplectic expression, storming out of the room and into the gardens.

The pale blue-grey of the sky stretches above her, the grass bright and the summer flowers rising against the green, their heady scent filling the air. The gardens have always been her place to go when she feels lost, to bring herself back together, beneath the vastness of the sky and amongst the plants that continue to weave their way towards the sun despite adversity. As a child, it was a place to play, to hover by the gardener while they watered and pulled up weeds, and now it's a place to sit and think, away from the eyes of the castle.

Her thoughts are a swarm of worry, thinking of Vision and everything he represents. Her agency stolen from her, a marriage arranged for her rather than naturally born of love like she always wanted. Years of dreaming about falling in love, a whirlwind romance like in the stories, all torn away from her in one swift decision by people who don't care about her, only what the kingdom will think. Trapping her in a marriage with a prince who she still finds infuriatingly  _attractive_.

One would have to be blind not to notice that her sudden betrothed is a very handsome man. Though her heart has been bound to her masked stranger for years, infatuation with a mystery doesn't prevent her from noticing that Vision's eyes are as blue as the ocean in paintings, his hair so golden and thick enough to slide her fingers into, or the perfect curve of his lips. In the stories, the rogues and pirates and knights that capture hearts are tall and well-muscled, but she thinks Vision is taller. Broad-shouldered, but lithe and lean, enough to make her heart beat a little faster. The traitorous voice in her mind spinning fantasies of kisses and touches and everything more.

Hearing the swish of footsteps through the grass behind her, she sits tearing up daisies pushing bright through the soil, shredding the snow-white petals between her fingers, refusing to look up when her mother sits down beside her, skirts spread in a neat circle. "Running away won't change this, sweetheart," she says softly, even when Wanda shrugs off the hand laid on her shoulder like a sulking child. "He's your betrothed."

"He ran away too," she says petulantly, and frustration spikes in her chest when her mother lets out a soft breath of something like a laugh.

"I know this isn't what you wanted," she says, and Wanda stares defiantly into the distance. "But please, sweetheart, come back inside. Give this man a chance. You could grow to like him. It would make everything easier. You will have to spend a lot of time together, after all, planning the wedding. And one day, not too far in the future...sweetheart, you and Prince Vision will have children together."

"I don't want children with someone I don't love," she says, and her mother sighs. "Mother, I...you know I can never love him. I love someone else."

"Wanda, sweetheart, the man you met five years ago could have been anyone," her mother says softly, the fact Wanda knows but has never wanted to accept. "He's long gone. I know that he was your first experience of feeling something like love, but you cannot keep clinging to that fantasy. Life is not a fairytale."

"How can you say that?!" Wanda exclaims, glaring at her mother. "You got the fairytale. The heir to the throne saw you after someone raided your father's bakery and fell for you. You ran away with the prince and became queen. Most would call that a fairytale!"

"Sweetheart, you know your father and I had to struggle to have our marriage accepted," her mother says sadly. "I was hated by his advisors, they tried to scare me away from him. It took a lot of trust and love for me to stay. Our ending was no fairytale, but we have found happiness with each other. Perhaps you will find that with Prince Vision."

"When are we to be married?" Wanda asks dutifully. The weight of a kingdom rests on her shoulders, her parents expectations, and with her mother looking at her so hopefully she can't help wanting to please them. She is all they have left now, after Pietro's death. She simply can't rebel against their wishes.

"In a month," her mother says. "You can contribute as much or as little as you want to the planning, I'll make sure to find the finest dressmaker in the land for your gown, you can make it the wedding you always wanted. And in that month, you can spend time getting to know Prince Vision. You never know, sweetheart, perhaps he can be the groom you always wanted."

* * *

Waiting by the carriage, scratching one of the horses between the ears and smiling softly when it nudges her side, Wanda tries to refrain from rolling her eyes when her mother tugs her away from the animals. "You mustn't get fur on your dress, Wanda," she chides, brushing imaginary dust from Wanda's pale blue skirts, straightening the necklace of diamonds at her throat. "The whole kingdom is going to see you."

"You know I don't like wearing the blue," Wanda says sulkily, picking at the intricate beading on her bodice. "Why couldn't I wear red?"

"The blue will go better with the white Prince Vision has been styled in," her mother says, and that does absolutely nothing to soothe Wanda's irritation. "Sweetheart, please. Just today, one moment to let the kingdom see their future queen and her handsome betrothed."

"He's only my betrothed because the kingdom won't see me take the throne alone," Wanda snaps, pulling her white gloves higher on her arms where the silk is wrinkling around her wrists.

"But he  _is_  very handsome," Mantis says, and immediately flushes, pink lacing through her cheeks. "Oh...please don't tell him I said that, Wanda."

"He is indeed a handsome young man, Amanda," her mother says with a pleased smile, and Wanda huffs at them both, turning away from them. To see Vision approaching her, clothed all in white embroidered with shining gold that matches his hair, and for a moment her heart stutters in agreement. Her betrothed  _is_  very handsome.

"What exactly are we doing?" Vision asks, and he sounds so dull, dutiful. Gazing at him, the line of his jaw and the curve of his neck, she finds herself lost in him for a moment. The way the embroidery draws her eye to the breadth of his shoulders, the length of his legs, her heartbeat picking up speed slightly.

"This is just to announce your engagement to the kingdom in an official capacity," Wanda's mother says soothingly, and Wanda bristles as Vision's frown deepens. "We've brought an old piece of royal jewellery out of storage for Wanda's engagement ring."

"Which one?" Wanda asks, curious despite herself, and her mother just smiles at her, eyes shining.

"You'll have to wait to find out, sweetheart," she says, and sweeps an arm out to the steps of the carriage. "We should be going if we're to keep to schedule."

Sat next to her husband to be in the carriage, listening to the snorting of the horses and the click of the wheels, Wanda can't help the occasional glance at Vision. One would have to be blind to not notice his good looks, and she wonders to herself why a prince like him hasn't yet been snatched up by one of the many princesses and daughters of noblemen she's familiar with. With their predatory eyes and their dresses cut to enhance every curve, smiling charmingly at young princes hoping to enchant their way into marriage. The Ocean Kingdom is renowned as a happy, prosperous kingdom, and looking at this man in his white, long fingers tapping impatiently against the edge of the carriage, she wonders why he's still free to be her husband.

When they step out of the carriage, the sounds of the kingdom gathering in the town square echoing through the cobbled streets, Mantis immediately flutters to smooth Wanda's skirts, pushing her jewelled hair pins tighter into her braids. "You look stunning," she says, voice so soothing. "The kingdom just  _has_  to recognise you as queen."

"That's because there's no one else to take my place," Wanda says, and Mantis tuts as she straightens her tiara, white gold to match her dress better.

"You're too pessimistic," she says as Wanda slides her gloves off, hand tingling with the phantom weight of the ring she's about to be presented with by a man she doesn't know.

"I'm only entering into an arranged marriage because the kingdom won't accept me as their queen without a king," she says, and Mantis bites at her lips, clearly unable to argue. "Forgive me for being a little pessimistic about my chances of seeing them happy."

"Wanda, are you ready?" her mother asks, and she sighs and adjusts her skirt one last time before she joins her parents, waiting to greet the crowds of people that will become her subjects after her wedding.

Her father steps to the front of the podium, holds his hands up for silence, and gives the crowds a charming smile that Wanda remembers recognising on Pietro's face. Somehow she knows her own smile can never be that warm and welcoming. "My wife, my daughter and I would first like to thank you all for your support in this tragic time for our family," he says, and Wanda watches the solemn faces of the people staring up at her father. Wondering how she can ever hope to be a queen like her father is a king. "Losing our son was a terrible blow to all of us, and you allowing us time to mourn is something we will always be grateful for. But it is now time for us all to cast off the shadow of grief and begin a new chapter for our kingdom."

Knowing her part in this, moments like these choreographed by history, she steps forward, and her father rests a proud hand on her shoulder. "My daughter will be your queen soon enough," he says, giving her a smile, and she tries hard to return it, not to stand cold and distant like she always did while watching Pietro play the darling of the kingdom. "And that is not the only wonderful thing to have happened."

Murmuring explodes into existence, a low hum through the crowd, when Vision approaches Wanda, and she takes his hand, remembering this performance from the announcement of Pietro and Crystal's engagement. But at least that was something her brother chose, not this arrangement. "My beautiful daughter will wed Prince Victor of the Ocean Kingdom in four weeks, and her coronation will be ten days later," her father says, and she tries to smile, to look besotted with her betrothed.

He stands aside, beaming at her so brightly that she can't bear to hurt him with a look of anything but utter joy as Vision goes to one knee, gold embroidery in his clothes gleaming, and the crowd sighs at the apparent romance of the moment. "Princess Wanda, will you do me the honour of agreeing, before your entire kingdom, to be my wife?" Vision intones, and holds up the ring from the castle's collection that was always Wanda's favourite. A gold band set with a rare black diamond, a star seeming to be caught in the jewel in the sunlight, and she allows herself to smile.

"Yes," she says, as if she has a choice. Holds out her hand for her husband-to-be to slide the ring onto her third finger and stand, and when their eyes meet her breath catches for a moment.

The crowd is cheering, and someone calls out, "Kiss!" to a series of raucous wolf whistles. Knowing it's part of the performance, just another thing she has to do for her duty, Wanda raises her head and brushes a kiss to Vision's lips. But she can't resist kissing him again, a little more intense, as she realises how soft and full his lips are against hers, and his hand curves over her waist and she seems to feel the shock of his touch even through her gown and corset, and she finds herself reaching a hand up to trace the line of his jaw and cup his cheek.

When they break apart, she flickers her gaze quickly away from his and tries to steady her breathing. She will not let this stranger who has come into her life at such a tumultuous time and seeks to break what she thought her future would be apart see that he affects her.


	2. a soft place to land

**A/N:** This chapter is about 70% smut. Though I don't suppose anyone minds! Enjoy!

* * *

 

"You know you can't avoid him forever," Mantis says, a little chiding, and Wanda just stares steadfastly at the piece of fabric she's embroidering. "Wanda, he's going to be your husband. You said yes in front of the whole kingdom. You took the ring."

"My duty is to say yes and take the ring," Wanda says, glancing down at the ring that's still an unfamiliar presence on her left hand, the jewel glittering in the candlelight. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"But your mother is working so hard to try and organise your wedding to make you happy," Mantis says, and Wanda curses her handmaiden's ability to empathise with anyone and everyone. "You should try and help, Wanda. I know you don't want lilies at your wedding, but they'll be there unless you say you'd rather roses."

"My mother will insist that I ask Vision to contribute to the planning," Wanda says sulkily.

"Well...it is his wedding too," Mantis says hesitantly, and Wanda turns around, her eyes flashing. "Don't be angry with me. I'm just trying to help!"

Wanda tries to hold on to her anger for a moment, to continue to be frustrated, but she sighs and it all leaves her. "I know," she says dully, pulling another stitch through her embroidery and setting her needle down. "I'm just so  _frustrated_."

"But closing yourself off and refusing to speak to anyone but me isn't going to help," Mantis says, and Wanda huffs at the rational advice she doesn't want to accept. "Your wedding is in twenty days, Wanda. Your coronation is in thirty. You need new gowns made, you need to choose flowers and decorations, you need to pick out jewellery, or it will be done for you. I know you. You don't want someone else to be choosing everything about these two days that are going to define the rest of your life."

"Why do you always have to be good with advice about emotional upheaval?" Wanda groans, and Mantis smiles softly.

"You gave me a lot of excellent advice when I fell for Nebula," she says, and Wanda smiles at the memories of those days. Her handmaiden constantly flustered over Peter's red-haired guard, blushing and speechless, and the conspiring with him in order to set them up with a date in the gardens while the contingency from the Star Kingdom was visiting.

"It was mostly advice I overheard Father giving Pietro when he was infatuated with that nobleman's daughter from the desert kingdom," she admits, and Mantis grins.

"It was still good advice, and now Nebula and I have been together for three years because of it," she says, and Wanda smiles into the mirror at the thought of a relationship existing in her world that is actually happy. "And I'm going to give you some advice now. You should get to know Prince Vision. He's not a bad person. You could've been arranged to marry a lot worse. I've been speaking to his manservant, and he's a very sweet man. He wouldn't be close friends with someone who is cruel."

"If Vision wants to get to know me he could've sought me out by now," Wanda says stubbornly, and Mantis rolls her eyes.

"Maybe he's shy," she says. "You should make the first move. He's been staying here for eight days, and you haven't spoken a word to him since you showcased your engagement to the kingdom. He's going to be your husband, Wanda. Why won't you at least try to get to know him?"

"Because he's...he's not the one I wanted," Wanda says sadly, and Mantis is instantly sympathetic, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You  _know_  that. Everyone knows it. I should've been in the Ocean Kingdom by now. Maybe I already would've met him. I could've been in love and planning a wedding I  _wanted_."

"Oh, Wanda, I know that you wanted to find that man from the very first ball," Mantis says, tucking her chin over Wanda's shoulder in a gentle act of sympathy. "But he never came back. If he had liked the way you wanted him to, he would've come back and looked for you. We all have to forget our dreams and come back to the real world at some point."

"I wish I could stay in my dreams," Wanda says sadly, picking a loose piece of embroidery thread away from clinging to her skirts.

"Because you're in bed with your masked stranger in them?" Mantis asks slyly, and Wanda whips around on her stool to glare at her handmaiden.

"I told you that in  _confidence_!" she exclaims.

"I've never told anyone!" Mantis says. "I would never betray your trust like that!" Sighing, rustling at the skirts of her simple green gown, the gift Wanda had made for her last birthday, she sighs and says, "I just think you shouldn't let a fantasy stop you from giving Prince Vision a chance. He is a perfectly charming, handsome gentleman, and he'll be your husband whether you get to know him before the wedding or not. It's better to have some idea of what you're getting yourself into."

"I will think about it," Wanda says, and Mantis smiles so sweetly that she can't bear to think that might have been a lie. She has to consider her options, if only to keep her handmaiden, her closest confidante and friend, sure that she is trying her best to honour this arranged marriage. "I'm going to ride. If my mother comes looking tell her I'm taking today to think of wedding arrangements."

"Yes, your highness," Mantis says, and Wanda just smiles at the rare use of her title before Mantis leaves, no doubt to retire to her room and continue composing poetry to be dedicated to Nebula the next time they see each other. Changing into her riding clothes, buttoning her coat and making a note to herself that she will ask for a new one to be tailored when she realises how tightly it's pulling across her breasts, she snuffs out the lamps in her chambers and runs down one of the secret staircases to get outside.

The air is crisp against her skin as she tugs her hair back into a high ponytail, securing it carefully as she weaves across the cobbled paths to the stables. Drax is grooming his favourite horse, the largest one in the stables, charged with pulling loads around the castle, and when he looks up and sees her he grins widely. "Do you want me to saddle up your horse, highness?" he asks, and she shakes her head.

"You're dismissed for the afternoon," she says, with all the authority of the one about to be queen. "Go spend some time with your lovely daughter. You will be bringing her to my wedding, won't you?"

"Whatever you want, princess," he says, and dips his head in a bow as he leaves, and she grabs her saddle from its hooks and opens the door to her horse's pen.

"Hi girl," she whispers soothingly as Scarlet trots obediently out to be saddled, scratching her between the ears. Buckling the saddle into place, she hitches herself up and adjusts her grip on the reins. "I won't exhaust you today, girl. Just need to do some thinking."

The motion of her beloved horse running beneath her is familiar, vaulting the gate at the end of their grounds with practiced ease and riding out towards the mountains, through spindly dark trees, and she can trust in Scarlet to carry her where she needs to go and just lose herself in her thoughts. Wondering what she will say to her mother when the time comes for her to take a greater interest in planning her own wedding. There are still sketches hidden somewhere in her room of a design for the wedding dress she wanted, drawn by the flickering light of a single candle after she met that masked man at the ball and felt what could've been love for the first time. She can take those to the castle seamstress tomorrow, begin to create something that will live up to her fantasy even if her groom isn't the man she wishes for.

With the mists of the mountain creeping around her, she thinks about Mantis' words. Letting go of a five-year fantasy of finding her stranger again, being with him. She can still remember every magical moment of that dance, the way his eyes shone behind his mask, how soft and sweet his lips were against hers, the way he awoke a fire in her and made her want to drag him up to her chambers and tumble him into bed. But perhaps she  _has_ clung too long to that fantasy. Perhaps she should allow Prince Vision a chance to make her feel something other than resignation.

Turning Scarlet around to canter back into the grounds of the castle, she catches sight of a distant silhouette wandering into the stables. Suspicions piqued, she spurs Scarlet on with a squeeze of her thighs and brings her to a halt outside the stables, tying her up to drink and pushing the door open to find her betrothed inside. Running a hand down the neck of the palomino horse that belonged to Pietro with a look of utter wonder on his face, and anger rises suddenly in her gut to make her snap, "Don't  _touch_  him!"

"My apologies for offering some affection to your horse," Vision says thinly, narrowing his eyes at her. "He looked at me the moment I opened the door. Seems your family have allowed him to become lonely, princess."

"He's lonely because he was my brother's horse!" she snaps, tears welling suddenly in her eyes, and she blinks them back, sinking into her anger. "Do you even care that you're here because my brother died mere days before his wedding?! We are to be married because I am the heir but the kingdom won't accept me without a husband! I never wanted to marry you!"

"The feeling is mutual!" Vision shouts, and she folds her arms dramatically across her chest, glaring at him. "I never wanted an arranged marriage! I was promised freedom to choose, the chance to marry for love! Your family took that from me!"

"They took it from me too!" she snaps, and he scoffs. "How  _dare_  you?! You don't know anything about my life, you don't  _care_  to know! I  _had_  chosen, there was a man I intended to ask for marriage, we would've been blissfully happy together, until  _you_  came along!"

"And I had a woman I was searching for, hoping to ask her to be my wife with jewellery from my father's collection!" Vision shouts back at her, and his eyes are flashing, he's drawn himself up to his full height, and all in black he looks so devastating, with bruised fury darkening his eyes and his hair so gold, shining as it falls over his forehead, a heavy lock that her fingers twitch to brush away. "Not like I asked you. Not because I was expected to. Because I  _loved_  her!"

"I loved him!" she snaps, and with him so much taller than her all she can do is step into his space, glaring up at him with all the anger she can, her chest heaving with the sudden adrenaline of arguing. "I wanted to be happy! I should've been! This arranged marriage ripped my future away from me!"

"Well I'm so sorry for that!" Vision shouts, voice all venom, and she scowls at him. "I have to move to a kingdom I don't know, away from my family and friends, and marry a complete stranger when my father knows fine well of my intentions to seek out another, but I'm sorry that  _your_  future was ripped away from you!"

"Perhaps if we both feel this way we should go to our parents and tell them not to bother arranging this wedding!" she shouts, seeing red.

"Perhaps we should!" he yells. "Why don't you take the lead,  _princess_?!"

They gaze into each other's eyes for a moment, both breathing heavily, and she breaks first, the taut tension snapping as she throws her arms around his neck and yanks him down to kiss her. He doesn't pull away, his hands wrapping over the small of her back, tugging her closer, every press of their lips together like a bruise, lingering. Her eyes are tightly closed, every sensation so much stronger for it, she can smell salt clinging to him, his fingers digging into her back, and his broken gasp when she jerks out of the kiss sends a bolt of desire rushing through her.

She only looks into his eyes, dark with lust, for a moment before she leans back in, drawn in to kiss him, to slide her hands up into the springy thickness of his hair, and he groans against her mouth when she tugs and has her pressing her body eagerly into his, frantic for closeness, to feel him. It's so wrong, she hates him, and they shouldn't be doing such things before their wedding, but it feels so wonderful to be close to him, every kiss is electric and exploding with passion, and with her tongue in his mouth he can't argue with her and that is infinitely preferable.

Sliding her hand downwards, she finds the hem of his shirt and slips her fingers beneath it, tracing over the muscles of his abdomen, and he gasps against her lips, tearing his mouth from hers and dipping his head to kiss her neck, the hand he has at the small of her back pressing their bodies more firmly together. She can feel his erection pushing into her, sending a thrill of excitement through her at this evidence that she can affect him, and presses her hand further up beneath his shirt eagerly, the other skating down his back to cup over his ass, rewarding her with a moan and a nip at her neck that makes everything in her scream out for more.

"Wanda? Sweetheart, what have we said about you going out riding without telling anyone where you're going?!"

Vision breaks the kiss immediately at the sound of her father's voice, reeling away from her, and she stares at him, flushed and dark-eyed and breathing shallowly, his shirt rumpled and his hair ruined by her grabbing at it. "Go," she insists. "Back way out. Path goes through the gardens to the castle doors."

He does, immediately, and she tries to smooth her hair and calm her breathing before turning to face her father, giving him a winning smile. "I told Mantis I was going riding, Father," she says, and he arches an eyebrow at her. "I had to think."

"I really have to insist you tell your mother or myself when you disappear," he says sternly, and she nods, hoping he won't notice that her flushed state isn't because of riding. "We can't be too careful, Wanda. You are our only child and heir, we worry about you."

"I'm fine, Father," she says. "I must rest tonight, then tomorrow I will be prepared to begin organising my wedding and coronation with Mother." He nods in satisfaction, and as he turns to leave she suddenly hears herself say, "Father? Could you ask Drax to give Quicksilver more attention? I think he's been lonely since Pietro passed."

Her father smiles, lifting his grief-worn features, and reaches across to scratch Pietro's horse between the ears, smiling when he snorts in happiness and butts his nose into his hand. "I will make it a specific request," he says. "We have rather neglected this lovely boy."

Walking out of the stables, Wanda tries not to think on how she wouldn't have asked for that had Vision not brought the horse's loneliness to her attention. Returning to the castle, she's so caught up in her thoughts, Vision's hands on her and the way he gasped and groaned when she touched him, that she almost walks directly into Peter, lingering in the entrance hall admiring one of the grand tapestries. "Wanda!" he exclaims, eyes lighting up, and immediately lifts her left hand to admire her engagement ring. "We've just seen your betrothed walking through looking like he got hit over the head with something heavy."

Glancing at Gamora, unused to seeing her in her armour when she's always been decked out in silk finery as the not-so-secret lover of the king, Wanda gives her a tight smile and says, "My betrothed is getting used to life in this castle, that's all."

"We better be extended more invitations here when you're queen, it's much nicer than mine," Peter says with a grin. "They  _still_  haven't finished reconstructing the east wing. I wanna move my bedroom there, because  _someone_ ," he squeezes Gamora's waist with a smirk that makes heat creep up the back of Wanda's neck, "like to watch the sunrise."

"Why are you here?" Wanda asks, glancing between the couple. "I hadn't heard you were going to be in the area, Quill."

"Had to speak with your father," he says, and there's a seriousness dropping over his face that makes Wanda tense with worry. "The Moon Kingdom has withdrawn trade with me. They're closing themselves off from the world. Nebula went out investigating, and-"

"Found nothing," Gamora finishes, fingers curving over the hilt of her curved sword. "Absolutely nothing. As if the kingdom was never there at all."

"But that's  _impossible_ ," Wanda says, but the couple just both grit their teeth, exchanging an unreadable glance. "Isn't it?"

"There were always whispers," Gamora says, and for a moment Wanda remembers that she is speaking with the daughter of a crazed madman who once ruled over so many kingdoms with an iron fist. That it was through Gamora's sacrifices, the hollowness in her eyes, that he was ever defeated. "Many believe the Moon Kingdom deals in magic. But the one man who ever tried to investigate disappeared without a trace."

"People were shocked when the princess of that place actually agreed to marry your brother, Wanda," Peter says, worry in the furrow of his brow. "And now the entire kingdom and all its people have vanished. I don't like it at all. I came to warn your father."

"Just be careful who you trust," Gamora says darkly, and Wanda can't suppress a shiver. "With magic at their disposal, those people could go anywhere. Be anyone. Do  _anything_."

"You be careful too," Wanda says, and they both nod solemnly. "If you'll excuse me, I must rest."

"Wedding planning exhausting you, huh?" Peter asks, with a gleam in his eyes that suggests he means something else. Something that makes Wanda blush, her heartbeat skip. "We'll see you at those festivities. So exciting to have something to celebrate at last."

Leaving her friends to wait for their carriage, glancing back to see Peter hug Gamora closer and brush a kiss gently over her hair, Wanda ascends the stairs to her room, but finds herself pausing when her hand is mere inches away from the doorknob. Her head is still spinning, thinking of Vision. The way he kissed her, pulled her closer, their breath mingling and his hands in her hair and the desperate way his fingers dug into her back. She can feel a sweet burn in every spot his hands were, aching for another touch. She can't simply go to bed after what occurred between them. She'll spend the entire night tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

Glancing around her to be sure she's alone, no servants drifting through the corridors chattering loudly, she crosses to the west wing and the rooms where Vision is staying until they're married and he can move to her chambers. She doesn't bother to knock, simply jerks the door open and finds her betrothed sitting at his desk reading an ancient book, the pages yellowing, startling almost out of his chair when he notices her. "Princess," he says, and she watches colour creeping into his cheeks, his gaze darting everywhere but at her.

"Are you alone?" she asks, glancing around his rooms for Sam, that charming guard, or for Vision's curly-haired manservant whose name she still doesn't know.

Vision stands, smoothing his clothes, swallowing thickly and rearranging his surprised expression into one of authority, and she catches herself staring, remembering how the planes of his chest felt beneath her hands. "Yes, Sam and Bruce are downstairs eating with your castle's servants, I believe they are planning to go to the tavern," he says, and Wanda feels the corner of her mouth curl up in a smirk.

"Good," she says, and crosses to him in three short strides to bring her mouth to his in a kiss that begins to fill the hollow ache inside her. His arm wraps around her, drawing her close, and she breaks away to whisper, "Shall we continue where we left off,  _prince_?"

"I-I'm not sure I follow," he says, and she opens the button on her riding coat to slide it off, letting it fall into a crumpled heap on the ground. "Oh...oh, princess, we-"

"My name is Wanda," she says, watching him desperately try to keep himself from gazing at the dip of her neckline. "I want this. Do you?"

"I...I..." He swallows, curls his hands around her waist and dips his head to kiss her, breaking away with a sudden gasp, and she reaches up to cup his face between her hands, admiring the shape of his shoulders in his loose-cut shirt, a few more buttons loosened than there were in the stables, setting her heart skipping. "Princess... _Wanda_ , we shouldn't...we're not married yet."

"I don't care," she says, and he kisses her again, like he can't not, pulling her impossibly closer, pressing their bodies together until she breaks the kiss with a soft sound, almost a moan. Looking up into his dark eyes, she breathes, "You wouldn't kiss me like that if you didn't want this too."

"I do, oh, I  _do_ ," he groans, and kisses her again, pulling her further in his room, towards the bed. She feels every touch he skates across her body, even through her riding clothes, lost in every kiss, his tongue against hers and the lean length of his body, his soft sighs against her lips when she slips both hands up beneath his shirt, exploring all the skin she can't see.

"May I?" she asks, tugging at the hem of his shirt, and he nods, and she throws his shirt to a corner of the room, drinking him in. Tracing her fingertips over his muscles, the first man she's ever seen like this, and thrilling when he shivers at her touch.

Much as she would like the time to luxuriate in him, to commit every detail of this first man she's ever seen to memory, if they're caught alone in his room before marriage they'll both be in trouble. So she pulls him close and tangles her legs around him, thrilling when he easily supports her weight, carrying her across the room and tumbling them both onto the bed.

As he kisses her neck, his hand on her thigh hitched around him, she's too lost in desire to think of what she's read for guidance. Wriggling out from beneath him is instinctual, pulling her shirt over her head and feeling herself blush at his staring, pushing him down onto his back and continuing to kiss him, exploring away from his lips. There's a spot at the hollow of his neck that makes him groan her name when she kisses there, and the thrill of it is intoxicating. The only sound she wants to hear is him helplessly saying her name, over and over again.

She is the one who finishes undressing them both, gazing hungrily at him even as nerves twist tight in her gut. There's not much she knows about what she intends to do with this man, her betrothed, only that it is supposed to hurt. "Be gentle," she says, and Vision gazes up at her with his startlingly blue eyes softened, even though she can see lust painted over every inch of his face.

"I would never want to hurt you," he says, and it makes her heart clench. She straddles him carefully, planting her hands on his chest, and his fingers circle her wrists, bringing one of her hands to his mouth as he scatters kisses over her palm, her fingertips, and she takes a deep breath and sinks onto him, her nails digging into his chest as she does.

It does hurt. But not the way the woman her parents brought to the castle to teach her about sex made it seem it would. Not agonising, but a burn, just enough to be uncomfortable, to make her have to pause. Vision's hands curl around her waist, and she looks up to find him watching her, concern in his eyes. "Are you alright?" he asks, and she nods stubbornly. Shifts experimentally, and gasps at the new sensation of him inside her, the stretch, the fullness. Enough that she imagines it could be addicting.

When she moves, just a gentle rocking motion on top of him, he grips her tighter, and she hears herself gasping, " _Vision_ ," only half-aware of her own actions. If the tension between them, the arguing, the mutual hatred of the situation they've been put into, can lead to something this wonderful, she can tolerate him. If he's going to lie beneath her with a flush spilling down his neck and chest, clutching her and gasping out half-measures of her name between moans and hitches in his breath, she can be content living in such close proximity to him.

Something builds at the base of her spine, her heart racing, and she chases it, the brightness, moving faster on top of him, thrilling that it doesn't hurt anymore, doesn't feel so uncomfortable. It's like they fit together, and when their eyes meet for a moment she bends low to capture his swollen lips in a kiss, messy and uncoordinated, broken by their groans. She jerks upright with a moan, bucking against him, lost in sensation, in wonderfulness, and blinks white light away from her eyes, feeling the slick of sweat on her skin and his fingers digging into her, his moaning becoming an endless stream of groans of, " _Wanda_ ," as his hips move against hers, and he goes still.

She only stays on him for a moment before she moves, hissing as she climbs off him, reaches for her clothes. Silence holds as she dresses herself again, catches sight of her flushed face, starry eyes and messy hair in his mirror, until Vision sits up, and she finds herself looking at him. She just had sex with him. Her betrothed. He took her virginity, what she was supposed to be saving for her wedding night. But surely, if he'll be her husband anyway, taking to bed with him a few weeks early will do no harm. "I want to see you downstairs tomorrow," she says as she pulls her riding coat over her shoulders. "We are going to help my mother plan the wedding."

"Of course, princess," he says, and she stands to leave, crossing the room. "Wanda?" The use of her name makes her pause, turn around to look at him, breathing still shallow and clutching the sheets around him. "That was...it was my first time too."

"You know, I'm not sure I believe you," she says, and leaves before he can say another word, rolling her eyes as she storms through the corridors back to her own chambers. As if anyone truly saves themselves for marriage. Pietro gave up his virginity when they were fifteen, she remembers the wall-shaking arguments between her father and the nobleman whose seventeen year old daughter was the culprit.

She meant to save herself for her stranger, for the first man who made her feel desire. But if she must let go of that fantasy, that she'll allow herself some fun with her betrothed.

* * *

Clothed in her favourite red dress, simple compared to the gowns for formal occasions but perfectly fitted, the fabric thin enough to allow her some relief in the heavy heat, Wanda follows after her mother, listening to the constant stream of excited chatter, watching the enthusiastic gestures as she says, "I remember mine and your father's wedding in this very ballroom, sweetheart, we swayed and we talked about our future, and within a few weeks I was pregnant," she says, and Wanda tries hard not to glance at Vision, following in their wake. She is far from ready to think of bringing a child into the world, though she knows her father's advisors expect it of her, want to see a healthy baby boy in her arms as soon as possible. She won't be worth anything in their eyes until they have a male heir.

"How did Father choose to decorate for your wedding?" she asks, bringing her mother back into the present, the warm mists of nostalgia fading from her eyes.

"Oh, he let his mother do most of the work," she says airily, and Wanda briefly remembers her grandmother, the former queen, a princess from the Forest Kingdom until she was arranged to marry, still beautiful and quick-witted until the day she died. "We were so caught up in each other, we didn't think much on how we wanted our wedding to look. Only that we wanted it to happen. And quickly."

"Well I don't intend to let my mother arrange everything about my wedding," Wanda says, and she hopes she isn't imagining the tinge of pride in her mother's smile. "For starters, I don't want there to be any lilies. The smell makes me feel ill. I want roses." Glancing at Vision, dressed well for being around her mother, the yellow of his shirt like the beaches she sees in paintings, she says, "Yellow ones."

"Yellow is not one of your kingdom's colours, princess," Vision says, and she hates that the nickname sends a thrill through her, after what they've shared. What she can't betray to her mother, and what all his sideways glances and loaded words are making far too obvious.

"Our marriage unites two kingdoms who have never been connected by marriage before," she says, and her mother is looking between her and Vision and smiling, obviously believing they're becoming closer. "I want to unite the colours of our kingdoms in our wedding. We will both wear white, of course. We can take the dark blue of your kingdom too, marry it with the pale blue and the gold of mine. Use the black too, just for ease."

"I can see it now," her mother says, and hearing her happy is intoxicating. "Yellow roses. And white ones, for a contrast. We can have your mother-"

"Stepmother," Vision corrects, but he does it gently and respectfully, and Wanda grudgingly sees the charming man both her mother and Mantis encouraged her to get to know.

"Your stepmother can wear yellow, and your father the dark blue," her mother says, and her eyes are shining in genuine joy for the first time since Pietro's death. "I will wear the pale blue, it was the first colour I was dressed in when I was nothing more than your father's fiancé, and your father can wear black, he always likes that. You don't want the red in your wedding, sweetheart?"

"I will save red for my coronation," Wanda says, and her mother clasps her hands together, smiling so proudly.

"I'm so delighted you two are getting along!" she says, and gives Vision a delighted smile. "I knew you would be a good fit for my daughter the moment I corresponded with your stepmother, Victor. All myself and Django want is for you two to be happy. Anthony and Virginia too."

"We will try," Wanda says, and her mother smiles. Vision has shifted closer to her, his hand resting at the small of her back, and it sends a shiver of desire through her. "Mother? Would you ask the kitchen what they're planning to serve at the wedding? Thor's betrothed is choosing to stop eating meat, and I would like her to have options."

"Oh, of course," her mother says, and bustles out of the room humming to herself, so clearly delighted with this new turn of events, Wanda showing enthusiasm about planning her wedding.

When the great wooden doors crash shut behind her mother, Wanda turns for her body to collide with Vision's, and he drops his head to kiss her, and she finds herself melting against him, returning his kiss. "I thought it would take me an entire speech to convince you what happened shouldn't be a one time occurence," she says, and he smiles.

"You thought wrong, princess," he says, his eyes gleaming. "I always meant to save myself for my wedding night, but after twenty-two years I grow a little tired of the wait. And we are to be married anyway. I don't think we are doing anything terribly wrong by having our wedding night a few weeks early."

"But no one can know," she says solemnly. "It's still frowned upon for anyone to not save themselves for their wedding night. We would suffer the consequences." Smiling slightly, she says, "Most likely a lengthy lecture. And you would no longer be allowed to stay in the castle. None of the inns in the kingdom are exactly places for a prince."

"I'm afraid Bruce already knows," Vision says, and Wanda glares at him, her eyes flashing. "I didn't tell him much, I promise. But...well, there was blood on my sheets. Telling him I was with my betrothed was better than him believing I'd been partaking of the brothels."

"Will he tell?" Wanda asks anxiously. She's always been the good child, the one who followed the rules, watching Pietro's rebellions and silently mutinous that her parents remained so proud of him despite terrible decision after terrible decision. If they find out that she too didn't save herself for her wedding night, she dreads to think of their reaction.

"He won't, I swear," Vision promises, and she can relax. "I doubt my father would be disappointed anyway. He'd pat me on the shoulder and call me a chip off the old block." He kisses her once more, intense enough to make her ache, and then lets go of her. "We shouldn't let your mother catch us so close."

When her mother returns, brimming with information about the menu, Wanda nods along, watching Vision looking around the room where they will be married in nineteen days. After that, they will be allowed,  _encouraged_ , to share a bed. And the thought of what will happen when she sleeps next to him every night brings a blush to her cheeks that means she has to blame it on the heat of the day and duck outside for some air.

* * *

While Wanda's mother may be happy arranging her wedding, sending out invitations across the kingdoms and preparing rooms for those travelling far to stay in, her father is growing solemn, eyes always cast down, spending long hours closed in meetings with his advisors. Concern is growing over the disappearance of the Moon Kingdom and everyone in it, rumbling amongst the kingdoms of another war approaching. She's old enough to remember the ends of the effort to unseat Gamora's father from his tyrant's seat, the people who died to defeat him, and when she lies in bed alone she shivers to think of having to rule through a war.

Perhaps she can solve the problem before it begins, prove to everyone that she is fit to be queen. If she can understand the Moon Kingdom, she can negotiate, use all the charm she possibly can to smooth over relations. They can't possibly continue to blame her family for Crystal's death. She will not see her kingdom suffer because of an accident. With the time she has, the library filled top to bottom with books that contain the history of the land, she can understand what is happening. She can follow the story of Crystal's kingdom and make sure nothing will affect her kingdom.

Smoothing her fingers over the worn leather spines of the hundreds of books in their collection, tomes tracking back through the years to the earliest days of the Mountain Kingdom, she grins triumphantly to herself when she catches sight of the title she's looking for on a high shelf, worn black leather cracking across the spine and silver embossed lettering spelling out  _A Complete History of the Moon Kingdom_. Hopefully the book, veiled with dust and slimmer than one might expect the story of a kingdom to be, will contain the answers to the lineage of the women who might have been her sister-in-law before her untimely death.

Stretching onto her tiptoes to reach the shelf, she whips her head around with a glare already in place when a familiar long-fingered hand reaches above her to pluck the book down, holding it neatly in front of her. "I believe this is what you want, princess," Vision says, a smirk obvious in his tone, and his voice sends an infuriating shiver down her spine.

"I could've reached that!" she snaps without looking at him, glaring down at the cover of the book with its shiny lettering, determinedly not reacting to him shifting closer to her, his chest against her back.

He leans down closer to her, his breath hot on her neck and his lips against the shell of her ear when he whispers, "Are you sure?" She resents herself for the way she reacts, pressing herself back against him, feeling the curl of his smirk against her skin at a kiss brushed behind her ear. The thud of him throwing the book onto a nearby table makes her start, lost in the sensation of his lingering kisses on her neck, and as his hands curl around her hips she finds herself twining her fingers through his, her breath catching in her throat.

"Did you  _follow_  me into the library?" she asks, trying to be authoritative even with him kissing her shoulder, his hand gently tracing the triangle of velvet at the centre of her bodice, stopping short of her breasts, just enough to make her ache to be touched.

"I was curious to see your beautiful kingdom's collection," he says into her skin, a pleasant vibration that makes her tremble. "There are books in here almost as old as the oceans. Interesting readings, clearly written by those who have never had the pleasure of seeing the water."

"Then why come bothering me?" she snaps, even pulling his arm around her, pressing herself back against him, feeling the hard length of his body through their clothes.

"You were struggling in vain to reach that book," he says. "While I think you look particularly beautiful when you're frustrated, I'd rather help you  _relax_."

Something in her snaps at the tension, and she tugs him deeper into the shelves, where the dust is thick and the candles burn low and drip thickly with wasted wax, and kisses the smirk from his lips, digging her nails into the back of his neck holding him closer, parting his lips with a flicker of her tongue. He pushes her back against the shelves, something falling with a thud she barely hears past the pounding of her own heart, making a sound somewhere between a shocked squeal and a moan against his mouth when he hoists her up, letting her tangle her legs around his waist, break the kiss and groan his name. "This is hardly relaxing," she snaps, and his eyes are gleaming.

"Give me time, Wanda," he says, voice low and gritty, and drops his mouth to her neck, her head automatically tilting to give him better access as he trails kisses over her skin, his fingers digging into her back. Kisses over the tops of her breasts make her throw her head back and moan far too loudly for a public room of the castle, and drag his lips back to hers.

"Are you truly bold enough to do this where anyone could catch us?" she asks softly, and he looks up at her, eyes dark with lust, and she can feel him hard against her thigh, smirking at the knowledge of how easily she can affect him. "Or shall I leave disappointed?"

"Are you bold enough, princess?" he asks, arching an eyebrow at her, and she reaches to hitch up her skirts, press herself against him and curse under her breath. Look up to smirk at his flustered face, his mouth going slack when she presses against him again, his breath stuttering and his groan of, " _Wanda_."

"You should talk less," she says, and kisses him before he can reply, her hand finding a desperate purchase on one of the shelves, nails scratching over the wood as he pushes into her, and he's inside her and it feels as incredible as she remembers, the pain less this time, the stretch familiar, and they hold eye contact for only a moment before he surges up to kiss her. He's still careful, slow at first, but not as gentle, grabbing her hard enough that she imagines it will bruise, and every moment is perfect, like something from one of the novels she's read secretly beneath the covers, imagining herself in the place of the unhappy young bride secretly meeting with her betrothed's servant beneath the moonlight.

Although she can't help but feel that the novels could stand to be a little more accurate, not simply to describe a heart beating faster and lovers gripping at each other. She never could've imagined the way Vision looks at her when they break from kissing, his eyes dark and wanting, and there can be no accurate way to ever describe the way him moaning her name makes her feel, like fire is swarming just beneath her skin. She never knew that she would feel like he was never close enough, that he could always move faster or harder or deeper, that even through her gown and her corset his touch would burn. She moves jerkily against him, cursing over and over again in a whisper, and muffles her moaning pitching higher against his mouth, a messy kiss as she comes apart, bucking against him so hard she wonders afterwards how he didn't drop her.

When she comes back to herself, she finds him gazing at her with wonder in his eyes, and drops a kiss on his lips. "I want to feel you," she says softly, and he shudders, pressing her harder into the shelf and thrusting for perhaps another minute before he groans long and low and buries his face in the crook of her neck, a gentle kiss against her skin before he stills completely.

They stay like that for a moment, wrapped around each other, before she untangles herself from him, carefully unravels the folds of her skirt and drops them around her as if nothing had ever happened. "Then the last time wasn't just a fluke, and you do know what you're doing," she says, and Vision blushes, colour creeping into his cheeks as she smirks. "I'm glad. Perhaps you'll find me creeping into your room again."

"But we're not married yet," he says, still breathless, his voice rough. "If we were caught, we'd be in terrible trouble."

"And doesn't that make it  _so_  much more exciting?" she teases, watching his pupils blow a little wider, a little darker, and stretching up to kiss him one last time before she leaves the library, grabbing the book she came for to her chest and returning to her chambers and the promise of a long, hot bath.

* * *

"Hopefully this beautiful weather will continue another weeks and your wedding will be held in the sunshine," Wanda's mother says, crouching over to pull up weeds trying to strangle a bed of roses. "It rained on our wedding day, do you remember, Django?"

"I do, my darling," her father says, and they look so absurdly in love when they smile into each other's eyes that Wanda's chest clenches, wondering if she will ever have that. For the sake of her parents, who believe that she and Vision are becoming closer in friendship rather than just in the bedroom - or, rather, secret corners of the castle, frantic half-clothed encounters in the stables and the little-used white meeting room and in the wine cellar - her hand is entwined with his betrothed's as they follow her parents around the grounds, in the inspection of the beautiful blooms that will be rising on her wedding day.

"How long have you been married, highnesses?" Vision asks, and her parents turn around to smile at him, and Wanda wishes that he would just turn off his charm for a moment. When he smiles like that, and his eyes light up, it makes it increasingly difficult to be frustrated with him.

"Almost twenty-two years," her father says, gazing at his wife with such open affection. "And every one of them has been happy."

"I saw my father and stepmother's wedding," Vision says, and Wanda watches him, realising how little she truly knows about this man she is so close to being married to. "They have only been married eight years, many people forget that. They made their vows on the largest beach in our kingdom, so every one of their subjects could be there. I've never seen my father so happy."

"Wanda unfortunately couldn't be at that wedding, she took ill," her mother says, and Wanda remembers being feverish while her family were gone, complaining of her aches and pains and unable to have anyone near her lest they catch ill too. "It was a beautiful day, that much I remember. Virginia is an excellent fit for your father, Victor."

"We only pray that you and our daughter will fit each as well," her father says, smiling between them, gaze lingering on their joined hands. Wanda desperately wishes she could tell her parents something to please them, tell them there's a growing friendship between her and Vision, but the truth is that they don't speak outside of the moments they spend gasping into each other's mouths. She may know the feeling of his hands on her by heart, have memorised exactly the softness of his lips on her neck, but she couldn't tell her parents anything about his past.

"If this weather holds, we can allow the guests at the ceremony to spill out into the garden afterwards," her mother says, glancing around at the gardeners working tirelessly to make sure the grounds are perfectly picturesque in time for the wedding. "Drinks in the sunset, oh, it will be beautiful!"

"Darling, don't forget we must inspect the maze as soon as possible," her father says, and Wanda glances over at the high dark hedges, where she used to spend hours chasing Pietro in endless circles, until a servant was dispatched to hunt them both down for dinner.

"We'll do it!" she says, raising her and Vision's joined hands. "I know the way in and out of the maze better than anyone in this castle."

"Oh, thank you, sweetheart," her mother says, and Wanda just gives her parents a soft smile, tugging Vision after her towards the entrance to the maze.

Following the path she remembers exactly, avoiding dead ends, she stalls and lets her breath stutter when Vision tugs her against him and kisses at her neck, the deliberately thin material of her gown letting her feel his warm hands smoothing over her hips. "This dress is stunning," he breathes, toying with the material, a pale green like the first bud of spring. "I haven't seen it before."

"This heatwave has meant bringing some old dresses out of storage," she says, and turns to face him, smiling seductively up into his eyes. "It is a little tight, I think. It was made when I was seventeen."

His eyes drop to the dip of her neckline, where the material truly is straining over the curve of her breasts, and his breathing is a little shallower, some colour creeping into his cheeks, when he looks back up and says, "I think it fits you  _perfectly_ , princess."

"Come on, let me show you the centre," she says, pulling him after her around another turn in the pattern of the paths through the towering hedges. "Pietro and I had it redesigned when we turned thirteen. Added more flowers, benches, a fountain, to make it into a spot for us. I do believe when we were a little older he would bring his secret trysts here." She glances back at Vision from beneath her lashes and says, "I always wanted to follow in that tradition."

"It's a honour to help you," he says, and despite herself she giggles, tugging him in for a kiss. He presses her further back into the hedges, short sharp branches catching in her braids, and she luxuriates in kissing him, the soft fullness of his lips and the way he gasps when she traces her tongue along his lower lips. At least if nothing else, she knows with absolute certainty that her betrothed will satisfy her.

Another few turns, and they break into the centre of the maze, a perfect square bordered with bright flowers pushing through the soil, four benches set neatly out, and the fountain at the centre throwing rainbows through the air in the sunlight. "This is beautiful," Vision says, barely audible over the soft babbling of the water, looking around this perfect haven where Wanda would so often hide with a book on afternoons where she was ignored. "If only it didn't require navigating a maze to find it."

"I like it this way," she says, allowing herself to gaze at him, the way his clothes pull across his muscles with him leaning over the fountain, running his fingers through the water, coins gleaming in the shimmering depths from days of wishing for something more. "This way it's just for me." Giving him a seductive smile when he looks back up at her, she says, "The last time I hid in here it took my father an hour to find me. I doubt he'll break that record today."

She pulls him back from the edge of the fountain to kiss him, turning them around and pushing him down on a bench, straddling his lap as his hands stray up into her hair, pressing their mouths closer together as he parts her lips with a flicker of his tongue. Sliding her hands down between them to hitch her skirts up, she presses her hips eagerly into his, moving against him until he breaks the kiss with a groan, eyes dark. "I almost thought we wouldn't have the chance to sneak away today," he says, and she grins at him.

"I will make the chance," she says, and kisses him again, cupping his face and gripping at his shoulders, moving her hips with the guiding presses of his hands on the small of her back. Feeling him grow hard against her, the rise of his hips enough to tug his pants down so she can sink onto him, gasping into his shoulder.

Her assumption that sex would be addicting was correct, her urges to see Vision flushed and speechless beneath her flourishing no matter how many times they sneak into the shadows and take each other apart. She's learned him by heart, how his hands curve around her hips and encourage her to move faster, the way he kisses at her neck and her shoulders and her collarbones, how he gasps and groans more and more frequently the longer they're moving together. As he traces his hands up the front of her gown to cup her breasts, fingers caressing in small circles as he lowers his head to kiss along the neckline of her dress, she loses herself, crying out and bucking against him.

Turning his face up to kiss him lingeringly, she breaks the kiss and whispers, "Come on, Vision. We'll be missed if we're too long."

"I think we can afford to take a little more time, princess," he says, and guides her to start moving again, grinding into him, sending sparks up her spine, broken gasps of his name escaping her lips. His hand shifts from her back, sliding along her thigh and beneath her skirt to touch her, and she moves eagerly into his touch, his gently caressing fingers, jerking against him.

He barely moves, letting her take the lead, watching her with dark eyes, and she finds herself clasping his wrist, pulling his hand closer, encouraging him to touch her, turning her face into his neck to muffle her moans. Only when she comes apart again, in a wonderful rush, does he move, bringing her mouth to his in a frantic kiss and letting out a low groan before he goes still. "That was wonderful," she hears herself gasp, lost in lingering sensation, and jerks back from him, almost tumbling to the floor.

"You are so stunning when you're saying my name," he says, and there's such a gleam in his eye that she glares at him, climbing out of his lap and lowering her skirts with an imperious rustle. "Oh, princess, don't be upset. I'm glad I can give you so much pleasure."

"Don't be so smug," she snaps, and Vision is grinning as he corrects his clothing and stands up, taking her hands in his and bringing one to his lips for a kiss pressed into her palm. "You are  _exhausting_."

"Oh, I am, am I?" he asks, arching an eyebrow at her, and she shakes her head and kisses him, intense enough that he doesn't notice her turning them around, walking them a few paces away from the bench. Not until she pushes him backwards and watches him stumble into the fountain with a splash and a yell of shock.

"And that's what happens when you're too proud of yourself," she says sweetly when he surfaces, coughing and pulling his wet hair out of his face. The water has made his white shirt almost entirely see-through, and she finds herself gazing admiringly at him. Distracted enough to not notice him reaching for her until his hands are around her waist and he's pulled her into the fountain after him.

"Two can play at this game, princess," he says when she lifts her head, spitting out a mouthful of water and glaring at him. His gaze drops to her soaked-through dress clinging to her, a smirk on his lips, and she folds her arms aggressively over her chest. "Now we can tell your parents we fell rather than that you pushed me."

"You deserved it," she says, and he just smiles. That same stupid charming smile that catches in her chest and keeps her from being able to be so frustrated with him.

"I apologise for being smug, princess," he says, and leans close to her, his eyes very blue beneath the strands of his hair stuck to his forehead. "I simply delight in giving you pleasure. You are extraordinarily beautiful when you're happy."

She gazes at him for only a moment before she bolts forward to kiss him, knocking him onto his back in the shallow pool of water. With his arms around her and his lips against hers, feeling him smile softly against her mouth, she can't help but forget that masked stranger for a moment. Simply enjoying being in Vision's arms.

* * *

As the castle seamstress continues to pull at Wanda's skirts, Mantis is circling her with wonder in her eyes, a sample of a veil pinned into her dark hair while Wanda tries to be patient and not grow irritated. "Last fitting, Your Highness," the seamstress says, smiling at Wanda in the mirror. "Aren't you excited?"

"You're going to look stunning," Mantis says in awe, stroking a fingertip over the intricate details of the veil waiting to be pinned into Wanda's hair for her wedding in two days' time. "Prince Vision must feel so lucky that he's marrying you."

"I'm sure he does," Wanda says weakly, wincing when the seamstress pulls too tightly at the stays of her corset. Looking at herself in the mirror, she doesn't see the blushing bride she always dreamed of being, radiant with joy. Her dress is stunning, patterned with gold embroidery, the skirts flowing out into a long train, the neckline just low enough she's sure it will catch her betrothed's eye, and when she adds her jewels and tiara and veil she knows she'll look incredible. But there's no happiness in her eyes.

"I hear you're wearing the family diamonds," the seamstress says, and Wanda nods. "Oh, just like your mother did. I made that dress too, and she looked so radiant, you couldn't imagine a happier couple. Shame that young lady your brother was betrothed to had her own seamstress, I could've had fun with that one."

"Yes, but your work is exquisite," Wanda says, just to get the aging woman to quieten, and she smiles proudly. "Are we almost finished here? My mother is insistent that I'm downstairs in enough time to greet the arriving guests."

"I can finish the beading tonight, you can go," the seamstress says, and Wanda steps gratefully out of the heavy gown, letting it fall into safer hands. Mantis flutters forward to help her into the gown for the apparently traditional dinner with those of note from other kingdoms as they arrive to the castle for her wedding, the deep red that has become her signature colour.

Fastening rubies around her neck, Mantis gives her an encouraging smile in the mirror and says, "You've almost made it, Wanda. Two more days and you'll be married. Twelve more, and you'll be crowned queen."

"The end of this circus can't come soon enough," Wanda says, giving her dress an adjusting tug and turning to face her handmaiden. "Do I look like the future queen ready to receive guests for her wedding?"

"You've always looked like a queen to me," Mantis says, and despite everything Wanda smiles at her oldest friend, throwing her arms around Mantis before she leaves her chambers, and finds herself facing Vision in the candlelit corridor, dressed all in black embroidered in gold.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, and he holds an arm out to her.

"Your mother suggested to me it will look better if we arrive downstairs together," he says, and she simply stares at him. "We are to be married in two days, princess. Easier to start presenting a united front now."

"Oh, of course," she says, and sets her hand in the crook of his elbow. Feels her heart stutter when he lifts her left hand to his lips to press a kiss to her palm, her engagement ring gleaming.

"And by the way," he says softly, gaze flickering upwards to meet hers, "you look exquisite this evening." With her head spinning, they move down the sweeping staircase together, and her breath catches to think of how they look like a couple, in step. Faces turn upwards in the candlelight to see them, a touchingly proud smile on her father's face, and there's a short burst of applause seeing them together.

"Aren't you two a pretty picture?" Anthony teases, the first to approach them, and Wanda gives her future father-in-law a tight smile. "When did you start wearing black, Victor?"

"When I was styled in black to match better with my future wife," Vision says thinly, and Virginia laughs, giving her stepson a warm smile.

"You both look wonderful," she says. "Where are your mother and father, Wanda? We want to thank them for hosting us in this beautiful castle."

"Talking to the lords of the forest kingdom," Wanda says, pointing to her father laughing over wine with a few men she recognises, and watches her betrothed's parents gracefully cross the room to them, her father receiving Anthony with a grin and an embrace. Seeing familiar red hair disappear through a gap in the crowds, she tugs on Vision's arm and says, "Come on, meet my friends."

Vision follows her obediently to her usual knot of people, pulling her hand from Vision's elbow to embrace Natasha, grinning around at her friends. "I believe you've all heard of my fiancé, Prince Victor of the Ocean Kingdom," she says, and Vision smiles charmingly at her friends.

"Just Vision, please, I can't abide all this formality," he says, and Peter lets out a bark of a laugh.

"Me neither, my friend, it's tiring," he says, arm around Gamora bedecked in green silks, her hair piled up and studded with jewels. "Not to steal your limelight, Maximoff, but don't mind if a few days after your coronation there's exciting news coming from  _my_  kingdom."

"Pregnant out of wedlock, Quill?" Natasha asks, arching an eyebrow at him. "I told you a thousand times to be more careful, but you never listen."

"What...no...no, right?!" Peter blusters, turning to Gamora with desperation in his eyes, and Wanda finds herself hiding her smirk in Vision's shoulder. Willingly getting closer to him. Gamora grins, shakes her head, and Peter visibly relaxes. "I  _meant_  that we're engaged, Romanoff!"

"Your advisors didn't have anything to say about that?" Natasha asks, taking another glass of wine from a passing servant. "I wouldn't think Yondu would approve of you marrying one of your former guards."

"Oh since when do I listen to  _Yondu_?" Peter asks, squeezing Gamora's waist. "I make my own rules. I'm the rebel king who killed my own father, remember?"

"I know it can be rather painful to have your own advisors not approve of your choice of partner, Peter," Thor says solemnly, taking Jane's hand. "You ought to discuss marriage with your advisors before you make a choice."

"Advisors were put on this earth to make our choices harder, not easier," Wanda says pointedly.

"Didn't your advisors choose your husband?" Thor asks, looking between her and Vision. "And you seem to be perfectly content."

The crash of the gong in the dining room means Wanda doesn't have to answer to him, and instead can take her place at her father's right hand, Vision next to her, his hand curving over her thigh beneath the table. Just enough to distract her, voices around her blurring into background noise until she hears her name, and comes back to find everyone looking at her, hastily grabbing her wine glass and raising it towards her father's smiling face. "I am so proud of you, my girl," he says, and she manages to smile back at him. "It has been an honour to watch my daughter grow into the beautiful, intelligent woman I see sitting before me today. And I have no hesitations about giving you away to this wonderful man. You don't need me anymore, Wanda."

"I'll always need you, Father," Wanda says, and her father gives her a misty smile.

"To my daughter," he says, and everyone raises their glasses towards her. "My pride and joy. In two days, a bride, and in twelve days, the queen of this kingdom. I love you, sweetheart."

A sudden lump in her throat, Wanda whispers, "I love you too," and acknowledges the toast with a shy smile around the table. There's a hand on her face, brushing away a tear that slips down her cheek, and Vision's lips brushing her cheek in a momentarily tender gesture that makes her turn towards him in surprise. He's giving her a soft, sweet smile, melancholy in his eyes, and she can't help leaning over to gently kiss his lips, prompting a shrill wolf whistle from someone that sounds suspiciously like Peter.

"We can't thank you enough for going to all the effort to organise this wedding, Queen Marya," Virginia says, smiling across the table at Wanda's mother. "I'm sure it will be utterly stunning. Tony still speaks of your and Django's wedding sometimes."

"Really?" her mother asks cheerfully, glancing at Anthony. "But you must've been just a child."

"I was only nineteen when Victor was born," Anthony says. "Your wedding was five months later. I remember it because my mother said it was the most beautiful ceremony she'd ever seen and my father sulked something fierce until she said their wedding was the obvious exception."

"Isn't it odd how our lives can have brushed together so long before our children were to be married?" Wanda's father asks, smiling broadly at Anthony, and he nods and grins. "I am glad that Marya and I have found new friends through all of this."

"And our kingdoms will be united for the first time through this marriage," Virginia says, smiling sweetly at Wanda and Vision, and she feels trapped. Under the weight of this expectation, the entire room watching her, she feels suffocated.

"Would you excuse me?" she asks softly, and carefully removes Vision's hand from her thigh beneath the table before she leaves the room, her breathing laboured, her corset cutting into her, her head spinning. A room full of people who all expect something from her, expect her to be a good wife, a good queen, and she can't even hope to live up to what Pietro could've been.

"Wanda?" She looks up to Vision sliding the door to the dining room closed behind him, concern in his eyes, crossing to her and cupping her face between his hands, eyes searching her expression for answers. "Are you alright?"

"Just...I..." She cuts herself off in another laboured breath, and he grips at her waist, looking so scared for her. "Vision, could you...loosen my corset a little? Please? I can't...I can barely  _breathe_."

"Oh, yes, of course," he says, but hesitates reaching for her. "Um...right here?"

She grabs his hand, pulls him through a door onto the servant staircase, and turns around, pulling his hand to the tiny buttons running up the back of her dress. Even through the panic clouding her mind, she feels a sharp spike of desire at him slowly loosening the stays of her corset, feeling his fingers on her back, and when the boning loosens enough for her to take a dizzying gulp of air his touch lingers, and he drops a gentle kiss on her shoulder. "Thank you," she says softly, and he buttons her dress up again for her.

"Of course, Wanda," he says, and she turns around to him giving her a sweet smile. "Who laced you into that so tightly?"

"Oh, the seamstress, she's ruthless," she says, and he chuckles. "I had the final fitting for my wedding gown."

"I've heard from Bruce who heard from Mantis that it's stunning," he says, and brushes a fallen lock of hair behind her ear in a gesture so tender that her breath catches. "Though you're plenty stunning without the need of a dress to enhance it."

"So charming," she teases, and he smiles.

"Well, it's how I was raised," he says, and bends his head to kiss her, briefly before he pulls away, arms wound around her waist. "Why did you leave?"

"I...I suppose I'm nervous," she says, ducking her head in an attempt to avoid looking into his eyes. "About the wedding. And my coronation."

"Why?" he asks, lifting her chin to look searchingly into her eyes. "Your father said it himself, you're a beautiful, intelligent woman. You will make a wonderful queen."

"Not as wonderful as Pietro could've been as king," she says, and understanding dawns in Vision's eyes. "This was all meant to be his. The wedding, the throne, this  _life_. He fell in love with Crystal, this beautiful princess of a kingdom who had never before promised one of their own in marriage, he would've produced heirs who were healthy and handsome, he would've been a charming and kind king. I've always lived in his shadow, and now I'll be married and crowned in it too."

"Wanda, you are not your brother," Vision says, looking deep into her eyes, sincerity written across his face. "Don't try to be like him. You will be a wonderful queen because of who you are. You are compassionate, and intelligent, and you care about the people. They should feel lucky to have someone like you taking the throne."

"You can tell me that," she says sadly. "But it doesn't make it true."

"I know what it is to feel inadequate," he says softly. "And you should never feel that way. You are brave, and strong, and wonderful. Any kingdom would be blessed to have you."

She only gazes at him for a moment longer before she kisses him, pushes him across the staircase to press him into the opposite wall, losing herself in this man who is so sweet to her, despite the fact that she has done nothing to deserve it. Ignored him except when she's seeking out something to calm the aching desire in her chest, and yet he still sees her differently to other people. His arms tangling around her, his soft groan against her lips when she starts unbuttoning his shirt, it's all new and magical and electrifying. Kissing him in the shadows, tracing her fingertips over his chest, his warmth spilling into her, she can't help feeling helplessly drawn to him. Like she might fall, any moment, if she only lets herself.

" _Oh_!" Reeling away from Vision, Wanda immediately blushes when she finds Mantis staring at them, with Nebula just behind her, the two women staring at them. She's suddenly very aware of Vision with his shirt open, flush spilling down his chest, and feels herself bristle with jealousy when Mantis' wide eyes flicker to him and quickly away again.

"Well," Nebula says bracingly, tossing her bright hair over one shoulder, "it would appear our spot has already been taken, Mantis."

"It's not what it looks like," Wanda says, but her protest is so weak Nebula outright laughs.

"This is so  _wonderful_!" Mantis squeals suddenly, clapping her hands together. "I thought you hated each other, but this whole time you've been secretly meeting up to kiss!"

"I think they've been doing a little more than meet up to kiss," Nebula says dryly, eyebrow arched, and Mantis immediately looks utterly scandalised.

" _Wanda_ , is that  _true_?!" she asks, and Wanda's expression must answer the question before she can find the words. "But you're not married yet!"

"We're not married yet, darling," Nebula says, and Mantis flushes. "I always knew you had a little rebel in you, Wanda. Secret dalliances in quiet staircases, I approve."

"Don't tell anyone about this," Wanda says, trying to pull back her authority. " _Especially_  my parents. You won't tell them, will you?"

"Wanda, how  _could_  you?" Mantis asks in horror. "You're supposed to save yourself for marriage!"

"Well, I...I almost did," she says, and Nebula snorts. "We just started a few weeks early."

"What if someone  _caught_  you?!" Mantis asks, eyes wide and round. "You'd be in so much trouble!"

"No one caught us, and no one will," Wanda says, and rebuttons Vision's shirt for him, taking his hand. "We're going back to the dinner. And you are going to never tell anyone that you caught us doing this."

Leaving Nebula and Mantis to whatever reason they were on the staircase, Wanda tugs Vision along with her, until he pauses and pulls her back. "I meant every word, you know," he says, and she's struck again by the blue of his eyes. "I know that sometimes you may think I'm just trying to be charming. But I do think you're wonderful." He drops a soft kiss on her lips, and in a rush adds, "And I'm honoured that I'm going to be your husband."

She spends the rest of the night with her head spinning, the conversation between her friends simply flying over her head as she stares at Vision. Feels herself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Almost forgetting her stranger, her heart not quite hers anymore. And dreading what marriage and sharing a bed will make her feel.

* * *

Clasping the family diamonds around her neck, Wanda turns at a stifled sob, finding her mother in tears. "Mother, please, it's just my wedding day," she says, and prompts another sob. " _Mother_."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, you just look so beautiful," her mother says, as Mantis fusses with Wanda's train, pulling it out to showcase as much of the intricate embroidery and beading as possible. "I dreamt of this day the moment I held you in my arms the day you were born. You've grown up so stunning, and now look at this  _dress_."

Glancing up as Mantis slides her tiara into her intricate curls, Wanda sees another person in her reflection. A bride, with glowing skin and shining eyes and dark hair against her white dress, a softness around her mouth. Someone who is happy to be getting married today, with blue skies and the sun blazing down and her bouquet of yellow roses just waiting. Vision will be waiting for her, in white too, waiting to marry her. The thought makes the woman in the mirror smile wider, and she tries to shake herself. To remember that she didn't want this wedding. Still doesn't. It ripped away her dream of marrying her stranger.

But she can't help herself. As her mother drops a kiss on her forehead, eyes shining with tears, and Mantis carefully arranges her veil, she can feel how radiant she is. That she's happy descending the staircase and finding her father waiting in black, the kingdom's sword ceremonially at his hip, and he lights up when he sees her. "My darling, you are so beautiful," he says as she sets her hand in the crook of his elbow, taking deep, steadying breaths. "Prince Victor is the luckiest man in the world to have your hand."

"I hope he knows that," she says, and her father lifts her chin to look into her eyes, though her expression is masked by her veil.

"Are you happy, sweetheart?" he asks softly. "I know this isn't what you wanted. But you and Victor have gotten closer, haven't you? You think this can be a happy marriage?"

"Yes, Father," she says, and means it. He grins, and as the swell of music starts he takes her hand a little tighter, and she follows him into her future. Sees Vision at the altar, his eyes widening when he sees her and a soft smile spreading across his face, and when she gets to him he takes her hands tightly in his, brushing kisses to her fingertips and smiling at her in amazement.

"You look so beautiful," he breathes, lifting her veil away from her face and dropping a brief kiss on her lips. "I'm so  _lucky_ , princess."

As the preacher guides the ceremony, traditional words ringing through the room, Wanda is lost in thought, knowing she is about to make her marriage vows. Tie herself to Vision for the rest of her life, take his ring and promise to be faithful to him forever. It's what has to be done, and yet she finds herself questioning whether she is as against this as she was when they met. Remembering his kindness, the intimacy of him telling her such sweet things, and only shakes herself out of it when the preacher turns to Vision.

"Victor, will you promise your life to this woman? Will you be promise to be true to her, in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer? Will you love and honour her with all the days of your life?"

"I will," Vision says, and when she looks up into his eyes she's overwhelmed at what she sees, her heart skipping and her breath catching.

"Wanda, will you promise your life to this man? Will you promise to be true to him, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer? Will you love and honour him with all the days of your life?"

"I will," she says, and the rings are presented to them, and she thinks she sees the gleam of tears in Vision's eyes before he looks away from her.

"Victor, do you take this woman to be your wife?"

"I do," he says, sliding the ring onto her finger, the metal cool against her skin.

"Wanda, do you take this man to be your husband?"

"I do," she says, fingers trembling as she pushes the ring onto Vision's hand, trying to hold herself together.

"Then I do declare you bonded for life," the preacher says with a broad smile. "You may kiss."

As cheering overtakes the room, Wanda looks into Vision's eyes for longer than she ever has before, chest tightening until it seems she can't even breathe. He lowers his head first to kiss her, pressing their mouths together hard enough to hurt, like a bruise, and she melts into him, tangling her arms around his neck and losing herself in his kiss. Forgetting everything but the feel of his lips on hers.

The reception is a blur, hundreds of people congratulating them, Vision at her side steering her around a hazy room. She talks to her friends briefly, but her focus is all on him, his hand on the small of her back, his closeness. As the sky turns golden with the falling sun, she pulls her husband from the room, tugs him up the stairs after her, and closes the door to her chambers firmly behind them. "Make love to me," she whispers, and draws him into a kiss.

He undresses her so slowly, luxuriating in it, loosening the stays of her corset until he can throw it aside, her gown pooling around her feet, and he's staring, drinking her in. Running his hands over her hips, her waist, tracing patterns over her stomach and her breasts until her chest is heaving, her breathing uneven, and she's trembling undressing him, pulling him close when their clothes are tangled on the floor, kissing him over and over again until she's dizzy with desire. Until his hand slips between her legs, touching her so gently, and she pushes him back towards the bed, tumbling him down and straddling him.

As they make love, the night darkens beyond the windows, and the world is him gasping her name, the sound of skin on skin, his fingertips digging into her back when she leans down to kiss him, and her grabbing to link their hands together when she shatters all to pieces, crying out unashamedly into the night. He's gazing up at her with something unreadable in his eyes, mouth slack in amazement, and she chases another release. Then another, moaning his name, and he's so gentle, pulling her down to kiss her, groaning her name loud and long when he finally allows himself his release.

Sated, slick with sweat, they lie together, the pounding of their hearts filling the air. Even as she rolls off him, she keeps their lips connected, tracing the lines of his cheekbone and his jaw, and she can feel that she's falling. And she wonders if anyone will be waiting to catch her.


	3. storybook endings

**A/N:** I am so sorry that this took so long, but I hope this incredibly long chapter makes up for the delay! I hope you all enjoy the end to this story - I certainly enjoyed writing it! :)

* * *

" _Wanda_." She smiles smugly to herself, leans down to kiss Vision and swallow his gasp at the shift of her hips, his hand cupping to her cheek, the pressure of his wedding ring still unfamiliar, though she's slowly growing used to it. The sunrise is striping the walls a pale silvery blue, her chambers slowly emerging from the darkness, and her husband is gazing up at her with wide, dark eyes, hands dropping to squeeze her hips, and when she grits out his name and loses herself he follows perhaps a minute later.

"Good morning," she breathes as she rolls off him, pulling her skirts down and readjusting the bodice of her lace nightgown, entirely inappropriate for any situation except this. She can't help but be grateful that she had new nightgowns made, knowing that she's spent every one of the ten days of her marriage greeting the dawn by making love to her husband.

"It certainly is," Vision says softly, and she can't help a smile, wriggling luxuriously against him when he kisses her shoulder, fingers pushing the top of her sleeve aside to expose more skin. A brush of his lips to her neck, and he murmurs, "Happy coronation day, princess."

"Don't remind me," she groans, and stands from her bed, reaching for one of her robes and wrapping it around herself to hide some of the scandalous nature of her clothing. Leaving Vision in her bed to open the door that adjoins her quarters to Mantis', and smiling softly finding her handmaiden wrapped around Nebula in sleep, black and red hair mingling on the white pillows.

Opening bleary eyes, Mantis immediately jerks upright with a frightened squeak. "Your Highness!" she gasps out. "It's not what it looks like!"

"Mantis, I'm not going to tell anyone, don't be silly," Wanda says, trying not to laugh at Nebula visibly rolling her eyes and curling further into the bed. "I'm just going to congratulate you on having your girlfriend in your bed."

She can't hold back her laughter when Nebula's hand peels out from beneath the blankets to give her a thumbs up while Mantis flushes a deep red. "How can I help, Your Highness?" she asks stiffly.

"Nothing, don't worry," Wanda says. "You two take a little more time together. I'll be downstairs at breakfast, remind me when you want to start getting me dressed. I can't take being alone with my mother."

Leaving Mantis violently blushing, she returns to her own room, chooses a simple gown from her wardrobe and swaps her nightgown for it, aware of Vision's eyes on her as she changes. "You ought to dress too," she says sharply. "My parents aren't interested in seeing you half-naked."

"Yes, princess," he says, a teasing note in her voice that has her both rolling her eyes and smiling affectionately. But the footsteps track across the room to her side, and she watches his bright eyes in the mirror when he presses a kiss to the top of her head and smooths her plain black dress over her waist. Leaving her with her heart skipping and her breath catching, sternly telling herself that she doesn't feel anything beyond sexual attraction for her arranged husband. Her bitterness about her husband being chosen for her is still not gone.

Around the smaller breakfast table, the informal one, her parents are deep in conversation with Vision's, Anthony slapping the table with his hand and bellowing with laughter, and she catches Bruce giving her a shy welcoming smile while Sam talks nineteen to the dozen at him. "Good morning, sweetheart!" her father says when she approaches, Vision pulling her chair out for her and letting his hand linger along the back of her shoulder when he sits down. "We were expecting you a little earlier than this, but no matter."

"Well I'm sure you remember what it was like to be newly-married, Django," Anthony says, a gleam in his eyes, and Wanda catches the very brief way Vision's hand clenches around his fork. She really ought to ask him what the story is behind his clearly odd relationship with his father. If Anthony is to be her father-in-law for the rest of her life, she should know why there's such tension between him and her husband.

" _Tony_ ," Virginia says warningly, putting a hand over Anthony's. "We have only one more day here. Try not to embarrass yourself too strongly in that time."

"Yes,  _Father_ , try not to embarrass yourself," Vision says thinly, and Wanda links their fingers together, smooths a soothing thumb over the back of his hand, and leans over to kiss his cheek. Trying to calm the sudden prickling tension of the atmosphere.

Breakfast continues in companionable silence, Mantis joining them after perhaps twenty minutes, studiously avoiding Wanda's eyes and blushing. When the food has been cleared, Wanda's father smiles at her across the table and asks, "Are you nervous, sweetheart?"

"A little," she admits, toying with the ends of her hair, her breakfast churning uncomfortably in her stomach.

"You shouldn't be," Vision says suddenly, and smiles softly at her when she turns her head and meets his bright eyes, "You'll be a wonderful queen, Wanda."

"Ah, young love," Anthony says loudly, breaking the still of the moment, and Wanda pushes down resentment towards her father-in-law. It's not her place to be angry with him when she doesn't know the full story. "What about you, Vision? Are you nervous to be crowned king? I never imagined my son would ever be in that position."

"I was never meant to be," Vision snaps, standing up so hastily it rattles all the cutlery on the table. "Because of  _you_."

He storms out of the room, and Virginia immediately rounds on Anthony, snapping, " _Tony_ , how can you expect him to  _ever_  forgive you when you act like  _this_ -" and Wanda sets her glass down and darts out of the room after Vision, the door slamming behind her.

She finds him out on the balcony, overlooking the front of the castle and the crowds of servants racing around to prepare the area for coronation day, the sun on his golden hair and his knuckles white around the edges of the stone fence. "Vision?" she asks softly, curling a hand over his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles. "Vision, are you okay?"

He turns to look at her, and there's something of a sheen in his eyes that she might call sadness, and her breath catches for him. "I'm fine," he says shortly, and she moves closer, dropping her hand down his arm to squeeze his hand in hers.

"You're not," she says, willing him to look at her, to let her in. "Vision, what's wrong? You can tell me. I won't tell anyone else, I promise."

"My relationship with my father is none of your business," he snaps, and it stings, but she won't walk away. His voice has softened again when he says, "Please, Wanda. I just want to be alone."

"It's coronation day, that's not an option," she says, and he sighs long and low, leaning against the fencing and looking down into the courtyard, the banners of their kingdom unfurling down the walls with the joyous call of a trumpet to signal out across the land that a princess is about to become queen. "We're married, Vision. Like it or not, I'm a part of your family just as you're a part of mine, and whatever is happening between you and your father  _is_  my business."

Vision looks at her for a long moment before he finally says, "The story is long and tedious, and not one we have time for. It's sad, and today is a day for celebration." He gives her the smallest shadow of a smile and says, "Celebrating  _you_ , princess."

"But you'll tell me another time?" she asks, and he hesitates before he nods. "Good. I don't want you to ever think I don't want to know you, Vision. I've told you of my concerns living in my brother's shadow, and I want to know about your relationships with your family."

"You don't want to hear those stories, they're terribly boring," Vision says, and she shakes her head at him.

"Your pain is not boring to me," she says, and something in his eyes flickers when she says it. Squeezing his hand, she gives him a reassuring smile and says, "For what it's worth, I find your father to be an ass. I'm glad you didn't inherit any of his traits."

"I am too," he says, and she grins. "I don't think you would ever have wanted to marry me if I behaved the way my father did when he was my age."

"I suppose I have your mother to thank for the way you are," she says, and immediately regrets it seeing a flash of pain in his eyes. Something else she will have to ask him about. Stretching up to kiss his cheek, she says, "I must go. My mother will have my head if I don't give her ample time to fuss with my hair and my dress and allow her to tell me endless stories about my father's coronation."

"Wanda, wait." She turns back and finds herself being soundly kissed, Vision's hands at her waist drawing her against him, and he smiles at her when he pulls away, leaving her aching for more. "I will see you when your mother deems you ready, princess."

"Only for a few more hours," she corrects, and he grins, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her fingertips.

"My queen," he breathes, and it does something to her, shaking her apart, her heartbeat picking up speed. She turns away from it, from him, and tries to calm her breathing. Her coronation day will not be affected by her strange stirrings for the man who has become her husband.

Mantis is already waiting in her chambers, and her mother appears with the dress in her hands as Wanda takes a seat and lets Mantis attack her hair with a brush, smoothing it out for braiding with flashes of gold ribbon. "I remember your father's coronation day," her mother says, and Wanda catches Mantis' eyes and clamps her lips together to stop herself from laughing. "We were awake with the dawn to get ready. Your grandmother had very strong ideas about exactly how every moment of the day should go."

Remembering her grandmother as she knew her, doting over her grandchildren and arranging their first horse riding lessons and taking them to the slopes of the mountains and the dark rings of trees to explore like children wanted to, Wanda smiles softly and says, "I think she was justified. Her son ended an engagement with another princess to run away with the baker's daughter."

"Love is love, sweetheart," her mother says. "And your grandmother was actually the first to make me feel welcome. She arranged the wedding in remarkable time so that we could be together. She welcomed her son marrying for love."

"Are you sure it wasn't just because you were already pregnant?" Wanda asks slyly, and her mother drops the necklace she's holding in a clatter of jewels, and Mantis is turning away to hide her laughter. "I'm not stupid, Mother. Pietro and I realised that our birthday didn't line up with us being conceived after your wedding  _years_  ago."

"It's a secret, sweetheart," her mother says, her eyes darting and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "And you mustn't think we only got married because I was expecting. We loved each other, the wedding was just arranged rather more hastily because of the... _situation_. Your grandmother was the only one who knew, even your grandfather was unaware."

"I know you and Father love each other," Wanda says, smirking at Mantis turning back to her, pink-cheeked from laughter. "I just find it rather ironic that Father was so furious with Pietro for sex out of wedlock when he did the same thing."

"Your father was twenty-one when we met, Pietro was sixteen when that young lady seduced him," her mother says thinly, and Wanda just giggles. "You understand that you and your brother not being prematurely born is a closely-guarded secret, don't you, sweetheart?"

"I just think the attitude is backwards, that's all," Wanda says, watching Mantis' hands in the mirror as she weaves gold into her dark braids. "There's no reason we should be so shamed for sex out of wedlock. A child being born out of wedlock is nothing to be horrified about."

"Between you and me, sweetheart, I agree," her mother says, and Wanda grins at her mother in the mirror. "Perhaps with you on the throne you'll finally get rid of those old advisors who told your father to end our marriages because I dared to have a son and daughter rather than two sons."

"Oh, trust me, Mother, Sir Ross will be the first to go when I make changes to my advisors," Wanda says, and her mother laughs.

"I doubt your father will question you on that decision," she says, and returns to smoothing out the heavy fabric of Wanda's dress. Deep red, intricately stitched with gold designs pertaining to the kingdom and its history, exactly what she might have imagined wearing in her childhood daydreams. Before she knew she would never be queen. To be worn with her usual tiara, before that is replaced by the crown of a queen. "Wanda, sweetheart...do you know anything of the tension between Anthony and Victor?"

"Nothing, Mother," she says. "Vision hasn't shared that with me yet, but I understand it's a resentment going back years. I don't want to push him to tell me when I know how easy it is for royal families to have tension between them."

"It just saddens me to see children and parents argue," her mother sighs. "Anthony seems like his heart truly is in the right place. I don't think he could've won Virginia's heart if he was cruel."

"Don't concern yourself too badly with it, Mother," Wanda says softly. "Vision is my husband. If he wants to share the information with me, he will."

"I'm so glad you two are getting along," her mother says brightly, and Mantis lets out a subtle cough. "I was so worried when you first met that this marriage would end up falling apart. You seemed to dislike each other so strongly. But you have become friends, haven't you?"

A flash of memory, Vision's hands on her, his eyes dark with desire, his lips on her neck, his moans in her ear. "Yes, we have," she says, willing herself not to blush and glaring at Mantis behind her mother's back for the eyebrow she raises pointedly. "I like him. And I think he likes me."

"He does," Mantis says brightly, and Wanda sticks her tongue out at her handmaiden. "He really does, I know it. Bruce tells me the things he says about you to him. They're very complimentary!"

Her mother is smiling, and Wanda avoids looking at her reflection, knowing she's blushing. The thought of Vision talking to someone else about her, about what they share, about the state of their friendship or arrangement or  _whatever_  it is outside of the legality of the rings on their fingers - it makes her happy. That he cares enough about her to talk to someone else about what goes on between them. It's a sign that he truly  _does_  care.

Laced into her corset, glaring at her mother in the mirror until she loosens the stays slightly, Wnda runs her eyes over her reflection. Her hair intricately braided and woven with gold thanks to Mantis' deft hands, the tiara that will shortly be replaced by a crown pinned neatly atop her head, the family rubies clasped around her neck, the heavy dress falling around her, clinging down to her waist before spiralling out into the elaborate skirts. Lifting a theatrical hand to her chest, her mother stifles a sob and says, " _Sweetheart_ , you look so beautiful."

"Like a queen," Mantis says, breathless, smiling at Wanda when she turns around, skirts moving with her like a waterfall, the embroidery flashing in the sunlight spilling through the window.

"Prince Victor won't know what to do with himself when he sees you like this, sweetheart," her mother says, and though she wills herself not to, Wanda can feel herself blushing. "Your father and I truly believe you two will take the throne gracefully."

"I love you, Mama," Wanda says, very softly. Overwhelmed looking at herself, knowing she's about to be crowned queen, to wear the weight of the kingdom's expectations like a cloak about her shoulders, and take the throne. With Vision at her side.

"I love you so much, sweetheart," her mother says sweetly, and dabs a tear away from her cheek. "You should go and meet your father. He'll want to speak with you before the guests arrive."

With a nod, Wanda leaves in a rustle of her skirts, and descending the staircase finds Vision waiting with her father. Dressed all in black, enhancing the blue of his eyes and the gold of his hair, and wonder in his eyes as his gaze flickers over her, and he holds out a hand for her when she reaches the last few steps. " _Goodness_ ," he breathes hoarsely, and she smiles helplessly at him. "You look...indescribable, Wanda."

"You look so handsome," she says softly, running her fingers over the cut of his cheekbone, forgetting that her father is watching them and there are servants rushing back and forth. She raises her head and kisses him, her husband, the man soon to be king at her side, and his arm curls around her waist and draws her close.

"Save some of it for the kingdom to witness," her father remarks, and Wanda tears herself away from Vision, blushing. "They do so love to see a royal couple show off their affection." He looks between them, Vision's hand still spread over Wanda's hip, and grins. "I do so enjoy seeing newly-weds. Reminds me of how passionate my first days were with your mother, my darling."

" _Father_ ," Wanda groans, detaching Vision's hand from her, and her father just shrugs, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Mother thought you would want to speak to me before guests arrive."

"A moment alone with my daughter, please, Vision," her father says, and Vision nods politely, and Wanda feels her cheeks flush when her husband brushes a kiss to the top of her head before he walks away, helping one of the young servants steady a tall stone vase filled with roses. "Come, sweetheart," her father says, offering her his arm. "Let's walk."

The heat of the sun is already beating down on the gardens, the flowers turning bright faces to the burnished blue sky, and her father is turning to her, something unreadable in his eyes. "I owe you an apology, sweetheart," he says, and she stops walking entirely out of surprise. "For siding with the advisors in arranging your marriage. I should have considered how you would feel to have what you dreamed of torn away from you. I...I should never have said that your belief in your stranger was childish."

"Oh...oh, Father, I..." She twists her fingers in her skirts while she thinks, the sun in her eyes, and finally says, "It...it  _was_  childish. I know that. I didn't know who he was. For all I know he was only there in an attempt to seduce a princess and marry into royalty by getting her pregnant. He could've been anyone, and I was a child to let myself believe that a dance and a few minutes in the shadows meant love."

"You look so like your mother," her father says, tucking a dark curl back behind her ear. "But you have my passionate heart. Your brother did too. Our family love fast and we love deep. The moment I saw your mother, nothing else mattered. Not that I had been betrothed to another for three years. Not that she was the baker's daughter and I was the heir to the throne. Nothing but how I felt, and we ran away together within the week. Believe me, I understand the strength of love. If you say that you loved that man, then you loved him. And I allowed my advisors to take that chance from you. I let them force you into a marriage with Prince Victor, despite seeing how you hated him."

"Father, it's alright," she says softly. "I understand that to rule, sacrifices must be made. You have been a kind king, and I can only hope to be half the ruler you have been. And I...I don't  _hate_  Vision, Father. When we met, I hated how he represented my agency being stolen from me, my story changed, but now I..." She trails away, not sure how to put into words the stirrings she has for her husband. "We are friends now. This is my fate, and I embrace it. I truly do want him beside me when I take the throne."

"You're going to be a wonderful queen, Wanda," her father says, his eyes gleaming with tears, and a lump forms in her throat, her eyes stinging. "I'm so  _proud_  of you."

"Don't make me cry so early in the day, Father," she says, and he laughs wetly and draws her into a tight hug, her head pressed into his chest. A kiss to her temple, and she clings to him. The last time they'll embrace as king and princess, and not the queen and her father. Breathing in, she whispers, "I wish Pietro was here," in a rush.

"He is here, sweetheart," her father says gently. "Watching over you. That little voice at the back of your head that convinces you to make questionable decisions and damn the consequences? That's your brother."

She laughs through the melancholy beginning to overwhelm her, and her father releases her, a soft smile on his face. "I will make you proud, Papa," she says. "I  _promise_."

"I never thought otherwise, my darling," he says, and glances back towards the castle. "Come on. The ceremony is about to begin."

As the triumphant music sounds, she is walking between the crowds of her kingdom, and of others, nobles who have come to witness the coronation of a new queen. She catches Natasha's eye, welcomes the warm smile as she takes her place at the front of the room, her mother at one side and Vision on the other, her parents bowing their heads for their crowns to be removed. Recitations are being made, the ancient stories of the kingdom, all the things she now promises her life to, the room swimming, and she reaches out for Vision's hand to anchor her. He squeezes her fingers together gently, and though she does not turn her head to look at him she can know that if she did, he'd give her a warm smile.

The ceremonial sword of the kingdom is drawn from its sheath, gleaming silver, and she places her shaking hand atop it. "I promise to uphold the values of the kingdom in every way until the day I step down from the throne," she intones, feeling the weight of every eye in the room on her. "I promise to rule over this kingdom with kindness and compassion. In the name of King Elray, the first of my line, I will do my solemn duty to the people of the Mountain Kingdom until my children are grown to take my place. As solid as the mountains that surround us, I will be. This is my vow."

Shaking, she barely hears Vision make the vows of the spouse to the blood ruler, the same her mother must have made years ago, her vision wavering. The sword is sheathed once again, and her tiara is removed from her braids, laid aside. If she has a daughter, perhaps one day she will see those pearls gleaming against someone else's dark hair. But now a crowd is being placed on her head, adorned with rubies, passed down through her family for generations who have grown up among the mountains, and when it's resting on her head the weight of the kingdom is in her hands.

"I name you Queen," comes the words, and she is allowed to sit in the throne, looking out at the sea of faces. Breaking to look over at Vision, a crown resting in his golden hair, and he takes her hand and smiles at her.

"My queen," he breathes, so soft, and kisses her hand. "You did it."

The room erupts into cheering, and she breathes for seemingly the first time since the ceremony began, looking around her. Her mother is in tears, her father smiling at her with so much pride blazing in his eyes, and when people start to file from the room they run to her, hugging her tightly between them. "I'm so  _proud_  of you," her father chokes out, a kiss brushed to her forehead. "And don't worry, my darling, you can take the crown off now. It's awfully heavy to be worn for longer than a few minutes at a time."

Her mother takes the crown from her, sets it back in the glass case where the most precious spoils of the kingdom are displayed, and is turning to smile at Vision. "You two make such a handsome pair on the throne," she says softly, and Vision is flushing, the colour creeping upwards from his neck. "We will go to the celebration first, if you two would like a few moments alone."

"Or, indeed, to not come at all," her father adds, and Wanda is blushing too. "We'll tell the kingdom you took ill. A coronation is an awfully exhausting affair, after all. I'm sure you would like an hour or two to rest."

They leave arm in arm, and Vision looks down at Wanda with wide eyes in a flushed face. "Did your parents just give us permission to go to bed rather than attend the celebration for your coronation?" he asks incredulously, and Wanda laughs softly.

"I believe they did," she says, and glances up at him from beneath her lashes. "So shall we?"

He smiles, and she takes his hand and pulls him up the servant staircases, out of sight of anyone who will delay them to offer effusive congratulations. Opening the door to her chambers - no, their chambers,  _theirs_  - and turning for him to unbutton her dress, unlace her corset, and letting everything pool around her feet. Jumping into his arms and kissing him as he carries her across the room, laying her down across the bed and moving his lips down to her neck.

The passion of their lovemaking hasn't calmed yet, and she bucks on top of him, her nails scoring pale lines into his chest, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, and their eyes meet and she can't tear her gaze away from his. She's just as struck by how blue his eyes are as she always is, like the ocean, and with desire in their depths, and something else, something deeper, and she links their hands together, their wedding rings clashing, and breathes, "Let me feel you, Vision."

He groans out her name, his fingertips digging into her hips, and she grins down at him, bending to kiss him, threading her fingers through the softness of his hair. "I feel like I should be more ashamed that your parents know how much time we've been spending in bed," he says softly, and she laughs and presses her lips to his again, running a hand down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin.

"We should never be ashamed of what we enjoy," she says, and rolls off him, curling into his side. "Do you want to go to the party?"

"Do you?" he asks, and she presses a kiss over his heart, still beating fast, and grins at him.

"I would rather not go through the ceremony of lacing myself back into that damned corset," she says, and he grins back at her, eyes gleaming.

"Then we'll allow your parents to make our excuses," he says softly, and draws her into a lingering kiss, the kind that sparks through her. Reminds her of another kiss, in the shadows of a ball, all those years ago.

Shaking herself slightly to get rid of the memory, forget that stranger and enjoy the man who is naked beneath her, her  _husband_ , she breaks the kiss and says, "Now, Vision, as your queen, I order you to not leave this bed until I say I've had enough."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

* * *

Silvery dawn is slicing through the window as Wanda slips out of bed, Vision stirring in his sleep, folding her nightgown onto her pillow and changing into her riding clothes, pulling her hair up into a high ponytail and buttoning her new riding coat. "Wanda?" comes a soft breath from the bed, and she turns to find Vision stirring, the blankets falling around his hips as he straightens up, her eye drawn to his bare chest and her breath catching. Her husband is blinking at her, sleepy-eyed, hair tousled from sleep, gaze flickering over her. "Where are you going?"

"Out for a ride," she says, adjusting her coat, and Vision just blinks at her. "Something to soothe my nerves before I have a meeting with my advisors." It's still odd to call the advisors hers, not her father's, but with her parents holidaying in the Ocean Kingdom, enjoying Anthony and Virginia's hospitality, she has been left to grow used to her position as queen. A month on the throne, Sir Ross fired from her collection of advisors, and she is beginning to adjust.

"I could come with you," he says, and she turns to look at him, hair whipping over her shoulder with the movement. "For the ride. I haven't ridden in a while, but I do enjoy it. And later, if you would like, I could come to meet your advisors with you. If you want someone in your corner."

"Do you have riding clothes with you?" she asks, and he nods, already climbing out of their bed, and she smiles softly. "I'll show you my favourite route. We'll ride through the woods to the bottom of the mountains and back, it should leave ample time to prepare for the meeting."

Vision changes into his riding clothes, black just as the same as Wanda's, and takes her hand for them to descend the stairs together, into the grey of the dawn, clouds gathering at the edges of the sky and the snorting of the horses with their morning feed filling the stables. Smiling at Scarlet's welcoming whicker, her horse leaning across the barrier to nudge at her shoulder, Wanda tries very hard not to blush remembering the last time she was alone with Vision in the stables. When he caught her sitting alone, talking to Quicksilver about Pietro, and they ended up making love in an unused pen, and she had a meeting with the seamstress almost immediately afterwards, rushing up the path to the castle picking hay out of her hair.

"You can ride him, if you want," she says softly, seeing Vision's gaze resting on Quicksilver, the beautiful silvery sheen of his coat.

"But he was your brother's-"

"And Pietro has passed, but Quicksilver still needs care and attention," she says, grabbing her saddle from the rails and buckling it around Scarlet while her horse stands patiently, her head set affectionately on Wanda's shoulder. "And he's the only horse you could hope to keep up with me on."

"So you ride fast?" Vision asks softly, running his hand along Quicksilver's neck, the horse snorting in delight.

"You should know by now that I do," she says, giving him a hot glance from beneath her lashes, gratified when he blushes.

Swinging herself up onto Scarlet, she waits outside for her husband, smiling when she sees him astride Quicksilver. She and Pietro would ride their horses on every occasion, spur the two into the woods and leave them by the river while they explored, spoke of their futures. Pietro told her he was in love with Crystal in those woods, dreamy-eyed. It should hurt by all senses, seeing her arranged husband riding the horse her brother once did, running an affectionate hand down Quicksilver's neck. And yet it doesn't. Vision looks like he belongs there, golden-haired against the silver of the horse, obviously a natural, and she softens to see him.

"Show me the way," he says, and she smiles, crouching low over Scarlet's neck and spurring her onwards, the thunder of Quicksilver's hooves behind her as they leap the fence at the edge of the training field and are into the woods, the trees dripping with mist and the sound of the river a whispered rush.

"Our grandmother used to tell us stories about these woods," she says as Vision catches up to her, their horses trotting along side by side. "That they were infused with magic. Rumours that a drink of the water would help you to see your path in life clearly, to understand who you were meant to be. Legend has it that the first ruler of this kingdom was near-death when he came upon this river and drank it for need of water, and he saw a vision of himself as king. Raising a castle in the land protected by the mountains and creating a prosperous place that would not be easy to attack."

"You think that magic is real?" he asks, and she looks back at him, expecting to see a bemused expression on his face. But there is none. He looks intrigued, wonder in his eyes, and she smiles.

"I think that there is some kind of magic in the world, yes," she says. "The bond between us and our animals, for example. We can't properly communicate with each other, and yet the love is real. My father looked at my mother once and knew that she was the woman he wanted to spend his life with. What is that if not a kind of magic?"

"You're more fascinating than I ever imagined when I first saw your portrait, Wanda," Vision says in a rush, and she pulls Scarlet to a halt, turning in the saddle to glance back at her husband.

"What did you think of me then?" she asks, and he ducks his head bashfully, appearing to focus very hard on an inch-wide patch of Quicksilver's neck. "Vision? I'll tell you what I thought of you the first time we met."

"Oh please don't, I was awful to you," he says desperately, and she smiles softly. "When my father first received the letter from yours, explaining that your kingdom would not see you rise to the throne without a husband, he included a portrait of you. When I first looked at that portrait, I thought that you were beautiful. But I was bitter, angry that after years of believing I would be allowed to marry for love I was being forced into an arranged betrothal. Years of imagining a future with the same woman. My one that got away. So I imagined that you would be shallow, that no one with your kind of beauty could be interesting. I never imagined that we could get along."

"I'm not shallow," she says, defensive, and he pulls their horses close together to reach out a take her hand, brushing a soft kiss to her palm.

"Of course you're not," he says, and there's a softness in his eyes that makes heart race, her grip on her reins tighten. "You are intelligent and compassionate and you deserve more than I could ever give you. If I could find a way to turn back time and make sure that your brother lived, so that you could marry the man you wanted before I was placed in your way, I would."

"Vision, I...maybe everything happens for a reason," she says, and meets his eyes. "I didn't know that man. I know you now. And despite the circumstances of our meeting, I...we're friends, aren't we?"

"I think we are, Wanda," he says softly, and gives her a smile that shakes her apart. "And we should get back to the castle. Much as I would like to linger here with you, your advisors won't be impressed if you're delayed by your husband."

Smiling over it, the irony of being a queen delayed by her husband rather the king delayed by his wife, Wanda turns Scarlet around with a nudge, and turns back to look at Vision. "How about a race, husband?" she suggests, and Vision grins and spurs Quicksilver forward and past her. Crying out in rage, she spurs Scarlet on to catch up.

Scarlet vaults over the fence back into the training field, and the world swims for a moment, her surroundings flickering from colour to greyscale and back again, and she feels hot then cold, swaying in her saddle. "Vision!" she calls out, but even her own panic-edged voice sounds far-away, like she's slipping away into water and hearing herself shout from the surface, fog crowding into her mind, and the ground is swallowing her up.

When she opens her eyes again, Vision is kneeling over her, her head cupped in his hand, and there's so much desperate concern in his eyes. "Are you alright?" he asks, the thumb of his free hand brushing gently over her cheek. "Did you hit your head when you fell?  _Wanda_ , darling, talk to me."

"What happened?" she asks, and her voice is faint, weak, a shadow on her lips.

"I think you fainted," he says softly, pushing strands of hair away from her sweat-slick forehead. "Scarlet stopped the moment you called for me, and you just  _fell_ , I was so scared, Wanda, I thought you'd hit your head, I didn't reach you in time to catch you, I wasn't fast enough..." He trails away in a desperate gasp of a breath. "Can you sit up?"

"I think so," she breathes, and he's helping her upright. Too fast, making her head spin and her stomach churn, and she bolts away from him as nausea rises sour in her throat, vomiting into the grass while Vision makes soft concerned noises behind her, his hand on her back. "Don't look," she pleads. "Please don't, I'm so  _sorry_."

"You're my wife," he says. "I'm supposed to help you when you feel ill." Wiping a hand across her mouth, she leans back against him, shaking, and he drops a kiss on the top of her head. "I should get you to the doctor."

She staggers back to the stables on shaking legs, Vision leading both the horses, and when she stumbles he catches her, pulls her arm around his shoulders and leaves the horses tied up outside the stables. Half-carrying her to the castle, he pushes the doors open and one of the servants immediately looks at him, wide-eyed. "Call the doctor," he says immediately, and they bow and rush from the room, and he's setting Wanda down in the nearest chair, cupping her face between his hands, eyes full of concern. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know," she says, head still swimming, and she sways in the chair, Vision's hands anchoring to her shoulders, keeping her steady. "I don't feel...good. What's wrong with me?"

"I don't know," he says, fear paling his face. "The doctor will be here soon, Wanda. She'll know what to do."

"But I feel sick now," she says weakly, and darkness crowds the edges of the world, and she pitches forward, falling into his arms.

The last thing she hears before the velvet blackness swallows her up is a frantic plea of, "Darling? Darling,  _please_ , stay with me!"

She wakes to a face looming over her, and lets out a high-pitched sound of surprise, jerking violently upright. Doctor Palmer gives her a reproachful look, saying, "You should be more careful how you move, Highness. You fainted twice this morning."

"Morning?" She glances out of the window, and the sun is high in the sky, bright enough for mid-afternoon. "I had a meeting with my advisors at eleven!"

"Your husband went, had to be forced to leave your side to do so," Doctor Palmer says, wiping her hands on a cloth. "He brought you to me unconscious, begging to know what was wrong with you."

"He only left because he had to," comes another voice, and Wanda feels a warm rush of affection seeing Mantis crouched at the bottom of the bed she's lying on, pale with worry, blood very brightly red on her lips from nervous biting. "He delayed them until he was sure you would be alright, the meeting didn't start until an hour ago, but they're talking about the Moon Kingdom, no doubt they'll be a while."

"What happened to me?" Wanda asks frantically. "I remember I fainted, I fell from my horse...and then I vomited,"  _in front of Vision_ , her mind helpfully supplies, making her wince with embarrassment, "then I fainted again inside. What's wrong with me?"

"I suspect just dehydration, coupled with the stress of being newly-crowned," Doctor Palmer says, running a hand through her hair. "I've drawn a little blood to analyse, your husband  _insisted_. He was quite hysterical, you know, terrified you'd been poisoned. My thoughts were rather something else." She gives Wanda a piercing look, and asks, "How long have you been married, Your Highness?"

"Six weeks," she says, glancing at her wedding and engagement rings, the weight she's grown used to.

"And have you lain with your husband since your wedding?" Doctor Palmer asks, so matter-of-fact that she blushes.

"Yes."

"Is there a chance you could be pregnant, Your Highness?" she asks, and Wanda's head immediately spins, dread clinging to her like a second skin.

Mantis turns shining eyes to her, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, Wanda,  _could_  you be? Imagine, a  _baby_! Vision will be delighted!"

"No, I can't be," she says, clasping a hand to her stomach, flat as ever beneath her riding coat. "I bled last week, I can't...there's no baby."

"Oh," Mantis says, her face falling. "But there could be soon, right?! Your parents would be so happy, and Vision would be too, I'm sure of it!"

A rattle on the door, and Wanda's heart lifts when Vision tumbles into the room, eyes darting frantically, and he rushes to her side, kissing the top of her head and clasping her hands in his. "I was so frightened, Wanda," he breathes, and drops a kiss on her lips, looking at her with something in his eyes that she can't name. "I thought you'd been poisoned, I thought you would die in my arms, I...what happened?"

"It's as I told you, Your Highness, I suspect dehydration coupled with the stress of being newly-crowned," Doctor Palmer says, an edge to her voice as she gathers her equipment. "I will test the queen's blood for any trace of toxins, but I doubt any will appear. You just make sure your wife is getting enough sleep and not overtiring herself. If this happens again, I would have reason to suspect you are with child, my queen."

"Thank you, Doctor, I will send for you if I suspect I'm pregnant," Wanda says, and straightens herself up. "I want to go back to bed. Mantis, you're dismissed for the day. Vision, help me?"

Her husband puts an arm around her, helping her to her feet, but as he guides her back to their chambers she can feel him distancing himself, feel that he isn't telling her something. As he opens the door and helps her inside, back to the bed, he swallows thickly and asks, " _Are_  you pregnant?"

"No," she says shortly. "Why?"

"We have to stop having sex," he says suddenly, and she turns a shocked expression on him, and he looks frantic, pacing back and forth, hardly looking at her. "I don't know how we've been so lucky that you haven't become pregnant yet, but this...we have to stop, we can't risk it."

"What the hell are you talking about, Vision?" she snaps, and he turns to her with wild eyes.

"You wanted to know why my relationship with my father is contentious," he says, and she nods, crossing her legs beneath her. "I'm a bastard, Wanda. Illegitimate. My father was eighteen and stupid and got a tavern waitress pregnant and I was the result. And he didn't want me. He left my mother to raise me alone until a raid in the last days of the war killed her. He took me in and pretended I was just a ward, an orphan he found it in his heart to take care of." There's so much bitterness in his voice that she shrinks back, astounded by this anger that's existed within the man she thought she knew, gentle and sweet and kind. "He didn't tell me until  _I_ was eighteen that I was just another mistake. The result of a night with some woman whose name he barely remembered, and he ignored me for the first seven years of my life. And I swore to myself that I would never father an illegitimate child."

"But we're married," she says softly. "A child of ours wouldn't be illegitimate. They'd be heir to the throne."

"I can't bring a child into a loveless relationship," he says softly, brokenly, and she's not sure why that puts an ache in her chest. That he assumes their relationship is loveless. They were arranged to be married, yes, but that doesn't mean she feels only contempt for him. All the times they've been together, made love, how can he possibly think that nothing exists between them? "You know you don't want a child with me. At least, not now. You have too much life ahead of you to be pregnant now."

"Fine," she says. "We'll be careful. But there are other ways to have sex that won't risk pregnancy." She arches an eyebrow at him, and he meets her eyes.

"No," he says after a long pause. "No more. Even if it doesn't risk pregnancy. Because I...Wanda, you are irresistible. And the only way to ensure there isn't a child brought into this marriage is to stay away from each other."

"So what, three months of sex and you turn your back on that because you're scared of having a child?" she snaps, and he looks at her, eyes wounded. "You are not your father, Vision. I am not some tavern girl. Any child of ours would be the legitimate heir to the throne. Would it be so terrible if I  _was_  pregnant?"

"I don't want a child," he says shortly. "I think I will sleep in one of the guest chambers tonight. You should rest. Despite what Doctor Palmer says, I think you were poisoned. And I'm going to find out who did it."

He slams the door shut behind him, the echo rattling around the room. Alone on their bed, still in her dust-stained riding clothes, Wanda does the last thing she ever thought she'd do over her arranged husband.

She cries.

* * *

"Wanda, I really don't think it's as bad as you believe it to be," Mantis says gently as she carefully buttons Wanda's dress, a deep green that sets off the colour of her eyes. "People who are close fight all the time. I'm sure your parents fought when they were first married."

"It's the  _reason_  he decided to no longer sleep in my chambers that upsets me," Wanda says, morose and dull, looking at herself in the ornate mirror. The set of her mouth is so sad, she still feels oddly cold. A week in her bed without Vision, and she's missed the weight next to her every morning she's woken without him. It's not even the sex that she misses, it's  _him_. "He doesn't want me to become pregnant."

"I don't see why that should make you sad," Mantis says with a shrug, reaching for the jewelled pins for Wanda's hair. "I don't think you want a child yet either, do you? I know your mother became pregnant very quickly after marriage, but you have years ahead of you for a child." Gathering Wanda's hair carefully into her hands, weaving the pins into the strands, she muses, "I've heard tell of a potion that can prevent pregnancy. Nebula says that's how Gamora keeps herself from becoming pregnant. I could see if I could get some for you so Vision can return to your chambers!"

"It's not the lack of sex that upsets me either," Wanda says, and Mantis meets her eyes with the mirror and gives her the slightest shrug. "Vision, he...when he explained to me that he doesn't want to bring a baby into our marriage, he said...he said he couldn't bring a child into a loveless relationship." Picking a speck of lint from her bodice, her next words tumbling out of her in a rush, she asks, "How can he think that our relationship is loveless?"

"Of course it's not," Mantis soothes her. "I know that it began as an arranged marriage, but there...there's clearly an affection between you, Wanda. You simply can't make love to someone for weeks without developing some sort of stirring for them."

"That's what I thought," Wanda says miserably, glancing down at her engagement ring, gleaming on her left hand. "And yet he still calls our marriage loveless. I...I have these  _stirrings_  for him, but I don't believe he has them for me. He's been trapped by our marriage."

"I think you're wrong," Mantis says simply, and Wanda turns a shocked look on her handmaiden. "You didn't see the way he looked at you when you fell unconscious, Wanda. I've never seen anyone look so scared. Your advisors arrived and he almost sent them away, asked them to come back on a day when you hadn't taken ill. He only left your side because they refused to, he'd been with you for hours. Holding your hand, pleading with you to wake up." She lowers her voice conspiratorially and whispers, "He called you  _darling_."

"I thought I dreamed that," Wanda says softly, and Mantis shakes her head gently, a smile playing about the corners of her mouth. "Do you truly think he feels something for me?"

"I remember the way he kissed you at your wedding," Mantis says, and Wanda remembers too. That kiss that felt like a bruise, the way it burned in her chest, desire flickering like a flame, how they spent that evening making achingly desperate love, when she looked into his eyes and saw him for the first time. "He married you. He slept next to you for weeks. And you haven't mentioned your stranger to me in a long time."

The realisation jolts her, remembering that night as if it was of someone else's life. The green sheen of that man's mask, his lips soft on hers, and yet when she thinks of that kiss, the first kiss of her life, she compares it to Vision's kisses. The soft kisses in front of her parents, the affectionate brushes of his lips to her cheek or temple or the top of her head, and the passionate ones. The way he holds her close, grips her like she can never be close  _enough_ , like he wants her to sink into him, the sound of his moans in her ear, his breath warm against her skin, and the way he kisses after they've made love, soothing and deep and  _passionate_. "I don't know what I feel anymore," she says helplessly. "My stranger, he...he was so  _special_ to me, for years of my life. I thought that I would marry him. And yet, now I'm married to Vision, I...I don't resent that as much as I did at first."

"You feel something for him," Mantis says simply. "I can see it in your eyes when you're near him. You light up."

"We understand each other," Wanda says, very softly, things she hasn't admitted aloud yet. "He knows what it is to feel inadequate. To have a complicated relationship with your family. And he...he grew up believing he would be allowed to marry for love. Just like me. He had a woman he wanted to offer marriage to when we were betrothed, he...he knows how I felt."

"You should talk to him," Mantis says, and Wanda makes a stubborn sound at the back of her throat. "You  _must_ , Wanda. He's your husband, the two of you have to learn to communicate. And you've been so sad having fought with him, it's time to make up. Promise that you won't try to tempt him, and I'm sure he'll be willing to share your bed again."

"As Queen, I have to welcome my parents home first," Wanda says, and Mantis gives her a fond shake of her head. "Perhaps you ought to mediate a talk between me and Vision. You seem to understand the difficulties of a relationship so well."

"I  _have_  been in a relationship with Nebula for three years, you know that," Mantis says, and Wanda smiles. "And I will not mediate. You have to learn to communicate with Vision yourself."

" _Fine_ ," Wanda says, and shakes her skirts out as she stands, leaving her chambers and descending the staircase to greet her parents on their return from the Ocean Kingdom.

Smiling, golden-tanned from the sun, they walk through the door and she smiles, letting first her mother then her father embrace her. "Sweetheart, you look tired," her mother says in concern, gaze flickering over her face. "You haven't been overreaching yourself, have you?"

"I'm fine, Mother," Wanda says with a smile. "Just getting used to being on the throne. How was the Ocean Kingdom?"

"It's just beautiful," her father says with a grin, and her mother nods enthusiastically. "You should have Victor take you there, the beaches are absolutely stunning. Anthony and Virginia are so hospitable, their castle overlooks the ocean, we were able to wake up every morning to the most beautiful views. Their subjects would love to meet you, Wanda, Victor was something of an adored figure there. Everyone we spoke to called him a charming young man."

"Where is he?" her mother asks, and Wanda takes a deep breath and is about to compromise herself by explaining that she and Vision are fighting when there's the sound of rushed footsteps on the stairs and Vision is smiling, rushing to greet her parents.

"My apologies, I was in the library, didn't notice the time passing," he says, and Wanda just stares at him. The way the blue of his shirt brings out the blue of his eyes, the shadows smudged beneath them, redness indicating sleepless nights. A shadow of stubble on his cheeks, and she can't help the desire for him that clenches like a fist in her stomach. "How was your time away, Highnesses?"

"Please, Victor, titles are not necessary between family," her mother says with a bright smile. "The Ocean Kingdom is utterly beautiful, have you two considered taking a holiday there? Obviously when you're a little more secure as rulers, then you'll be able to leave the advisors in charge and take time away."

"Perhaps one day," Vision says, and Wanda looks over at him. Maybe he doesn't hate her after all, or is going to ask for a divorce like she's been contemplating late at night when she can't sleep for the lack of him next to her. "And how were my parents?"

"They sent us back with a letter for you," her father says suddenly, rummaging in his pockets and producing a neatly folded length of parchment that he presses into Vision's hand. "Rather exciting news in those pages, Victor."

Vision glances down at the paper for only a short moment, then turns on his heel and walks away. Wanda only briefly catches a glimpse of his face, but there's a gleam of tears in his eyes, and she offers a hasty, "Excuse me, I should be with him," before she follows him out into the grounds.

Even as autumn is beginning to creep over the kingdom, the sun is still shining, dappling gold against the grass, and she follows Vision into the dark walls of the maze, awestruck when he navigates it perfectly, not one wrong turn. To think that he must have memorised it in the few times they've walked among it and made love at its centre, laughing and smiling and whispering each other's names into lingering kisses, warms her heart.

When she reaches the centre, her skirts rustling against the neatly-trimmed grass, Vision is sitting at the edge of the fountain, knuckles white clutching the letter from his parents, and when she softly calls his name his head jerks up, and the breath steals from her seeing that there are tears streaking silver down his cheeks. "What's wrong?" she asks, and he just shakes his head, and she crosses the centre to sit down next to him, curving a gentle hand over his thigh and raising the other to turn his head and look into his eyes. "Has one of your parents taken ill?"

"No, no, nothing so awful," Vision says, dragging the back of his hand across his face to wipe the tears away. "I don't know why I'm crying, it's  _stupid_ , this is not unhappy news, I-"

"It's alright," she says softly, brushing the tips of her fingers along his cheekbone, giving him a reassuring smile. "You're allowed to be upset, whatever's happened."

"Well, it...it would seem that my stepmother is pregnant," Vision says, very quietly, and when he blinks more tears spill down his cheeks. "I shouldn't be crying, I'm so sorry, you should go back to the castle and leave me-"

"Don't be silly, I'm not leaving you," she says, shifting closer to him. "I understand why you're upset, Vision. You can talk to me. I'm your  _wife_."

"But it's so foolish to be upset," Vision says, twisting the letter in his hands. "I knew that this would happen one day, I-"

"That doesn't mean it hurts any less when it happens," she says, and takes a deep breath. "I knew that I would never be queen, and yet I cried on the day they named Pietro the official heir. I knew that he would marry and leave me one day, and yet I cried sitting right here the day his engagement to Crystal was made official. You can talk to me, Vision. You always can."

"I've only known that Tony is my father for three years," he says sadly, and her heart goes out to him, she almost wants to cry in sympathy. "He told me so hastily, and only because Pepper pushed him to. She knew before I did, I thought that the prince had just found out in his heart to take in an orphan of the war, not that he was doing it out of guilt. And when I see him married to Pepper, how happy they are, and now they're expecting a  _child_ , I...I know that I was never good enough for him. I was a mistake with some woman he was using to rebel against his parents. He doesn't love me."

"Is that truly what you think?" she asks, and he nods, eyes bright with tears. "Oh, Vision, of course he loves you. He cares about you."

"He never shows it," Vision says stubbornly. "Pepper shows me more affection that he ever has. Sympathy for her husband's bastard son, I suppose. The mistake who can never take the throne. Just something to practice on, so Tony can know what it is to have a son, before he finds his perfect wife and creates a perfect family and I'm left to fend for myself."

"Have you ever talked to your father about all this?" she asks, and Vision ducks his head. " _Vision_ , you have to talk to him! You can't just hold all this inside yourself, it's going to hurt you even worse than it already has."

"I can't hurt his precious new family," Vision says, an edge to his voice. "His unborn son or daughter, who will sit on the Ocean Kingdom's throne one day. It's beautiful, you know. Crafted out of white marble, studded with shells and stones and jewels of blue and green. I've looked at it so many times, dreaming that there would somehow be a way I could sit on it one day. And now a child so much younger than me will be born to it, and I will be forgotten."

"Your father could never forget you, Vision," she says softly, and takes his hand in hers, squeezing comfortingly. "He loves you. Pepper loves you too, there's no sympathy around it. She loves you as much as she will love her own child." Lifting her head, she kisses his cheek, relief rushing through her when he doesn't pull away. "And you are already a king, Vision. That child will rule the Ocean Kingdom one day, but you rule  _this_  kingdom with me. You have a throne in a kingdom older than many others, a prestigious position. Please don't think that you will ever be inadequate."

He's silent for so long that she thinks she's made some kind of terrible mistake, then he turns his head and drops a kiss on her lips, and she has to keep herself from clutching at him, keeping him in places, the memories of the times they've made love in this maze rising in her mind. "I'm so sorry," he says softly, and she just shakes her head. "I should've told you all this when we first met, I...it would have helped you to understand why I am the way I am."

"I like the way you are," she blurts out, and wills herself not to blush. Though Vision smiles a small, pleased smile, and she relaxes.

"Anything you want to know, please ask it," he says. "Now. While I'm in the mood to share. I want you to see me as I truly am."

"Tell me about your mother," she says softly, and he looks down, sadness shadowing his face. "Please."

"Her name was Isla," he finally says, and he looks so sad that she moves closer to him, clasping his hand tighter in hers. "She was only eighteen when she became pregnant with me. The owner of the tavern she was working in threw her out, she was forced to return to my grandfather. He was something of a mad scientist, prone to fits of rage. She only stayed with him for the sake of having a roof over her child's head. She always told me the day I was born was the happiest of her life. That I was her little prince."

"You don't look much like Tony," she says softly, and he shakes his head.

"My looks are my mother's," he says. "I have a very old drawing of her, always kept it with me. She was fair-haired and blue-eyed and very beautiful. Easy to see how she might have attracted a rebellious womanising prince. She told me my father drew her while they were together, that he left before she knew she was pregnant, but he would've loved me if he knew me. She was so kind, even when she was trying to scrape together the money to take care of me, she never had a bad word about anyone. I adored her so much." He bends his head forward, tears in his eyes, and very quietly confides, "There was a raid in the last days of the war. My grandfather had been trading weapons, didn't much care whether they were to allies or enemies. He was stabbed to death on the steps of our home, and they came looking for my mother next. She gave me the drawing of her, the blanket she wrapped me in when I was a baby, and told me to run. I heard her screaming, but I didn't look back. She...she died to protect me."

"Oh...oh Vision, I'm so sorry," Wanda says softly, and drops a kiss on his shoulder, squeezing his hand. "I would have loved to meet her, you know I would. Any woman who could raise you must have been the kindest woman in the world."

"After the raid...when they'd put out the fires and arrested all those who weren't killed, I went back to the house," he says softly. "There were guards from the castle there. Rhodey, the head of Tony's guard, he looked at me and it was like he'd seen a ghost. He...he took me to the castle. Told me that the king would take care of me. He  _knew_ , he knew I was Tony's son, and he said nothing. No one did, but they all knew, they  _must_  have."

"Have you never asked Tony what happened that day?" she asks, and he shakes his head. "You should. What happened when he told you?"

"He just...blurted it out," Vision says with a shrug. "Told me he'd been lying to me for eleven years. I wasn't just an orphan he wanted to take in, I was his  _son_. Pepper convinced him to do it, if she hadn't I don't think I ever would have known the truth. I left for  _two years_  afterwards, took myself exploring the kingdoms. I sent no letters home, but when I returned to the castle he didn't even react. It was like he hadn't missed me at all."

"I'm sure that's not true," Wanda says. "You've only been away from me a week, and I've missed you every second. Goodness knows how it would feel to miss you for two years."

He looks down at her, eyes still shadowed with sadness, and finally says, "I'm sorry, Wanda. I shouldn't...I should have been kinder when I said I didn't want us to conceive a child. I didn't mean to get angry, I just...I was so frightened for you, and your advisors only asked about our plans for a possible war, not anything about your wellbeing, and I was angry with them and I let it make me angry with you. I am so sorry for hurting you."

"Vision, I...how can you say that there is no affection in our relationship?" she asks, and he blinks down at her incredulously. "There is, I promise you. We may have started by hating each other, but...we're close now, aren't we? I would certainly consider you a friend." Shifting on the edge of the fountain, she asks, "Where have you been sleeping?"

"Truthfully?" he asks, and she nods. "I've spent most of my nights in the library, studying as long as I was able. Bruce has helped a little, but he mostly tells me I should get more sleep, to return to our chambers and rest beside you." Her heart warms to hear him call her chambers theirs, and she gives him a slight smile. "I've been searching the books for studies of poisons."

"Vision, I wasn't poisoned," she says, and he gives her a grave look. "Doctor Palmer said it was just dehydration and stress. It hasn't happened since. No one in this kingdom would hurt me."

"It's not your kingdom hurting you I'm worried about, Wanda," he says. "Don't you know why Tony was hastily crowned king at nineteen, in the middle of a war?  _His_  parents were assassinated, poisoned with something that acted slowly. Tony took ill just as you did, and I believe he was able to get the poison out of his system before it reached his heart. I suspect that someone is trying to assassinate you."

"Who would do that?" she asks, and he just looks down at her.

"That's what I'm trying to find out," he says. "Because I am not going to let anyone hurt you, Wanda. I will not lose you the way I lost my mother."

He kisses her fiercely, and she clings to him. Her husband, the man she is beginning to feel something so warm and wonderful for. And though he does not budge on the idea of them making love again - though now she understands so much better, understands why he would be frightened to conceive a child in less than ideal circumstances - he shares her bed again. And she feels safe curled around him, listening to his heartbeat.

* * *

They've been married for three months, and she wakes to the bed empty beside her. A note folded neatly on the pillow, simple lines in his neat hand.  _Wanda - I have business to attend to out of the kingdom. Tell your parents I am meeting mine. I will try to be back within the week - if I'm not, then tell Sam. He knows where I am. Please don't worry about me, I know what I'm doing. -V_

He tells her not to worry, but she does nothing else. All those hours in the library, reading dusty yellowing books with fading print, poisons so ancient they're all but forgotten, dangerous plants that have never been used by any assassin in history, stories about all those royals killed before their time by the constant struggle for power. He spoke with her father about the last war, the war to destroy Gamora and Nebula's tyrant of a father, and she saw them both grave-faced, while her advisors constantly press her to mobilise their soldiers, to fortify the castle, to prepare for a war that doesn't seem to be coming.

Vision is still convinced that she was poisoned. That there was an assassination attempt, and she was lucky to survive, and whoever tried to kill her will return to try again. She's not so sure, believing that his past has just made him paranoid, that he's investigating fruitlessly when she simply fainted from dehydration, and yet she can't sleep. Scared that someone is going to creep into her bedroom and hold a knife to her throat, every shadow seeming a potential assassin, and she hears her parents speak gravely of Tony's parents' assassination almost twenty-three years ago, the spark that created the fire of that war.

Whatever is happening, she thinks that Vision is in danger. It haunts her while she sits alone in their chambers, twirling her engagement ring around and around his finger, staring at the door. Waiting for him to come home, to tell her what he was looking for. She wakes from dreams of him lost somewhere in the dark, injured, bleeding, screaming in agony, a cold sweat veiling her skin. The hours tick by so slowly, and she can't stop seeing him hurt, seeing him fall to the ground, a stain of red spreading over his shirt, taken away from her. She can barely eat for nervousness, pushing her food around and around her plate at every meal, or taking her plates in her room where she can hide them rather than hurt the cook's feelings.

She tells no one of the note he left, lets her parents think that Vision is simply travelling back to the Ocean Kingdom to see his parents, mend the relationship with his father. But she sits alone on her bed and traces his handwriting over and over again, the way he wrote her name and signed only a letter. Wishing to herself that he could've left something else in the signature, some show of affection. When the traitorous voice at the back of her mind whispers with every passing minute that he could be dead, gone from her life forever, she wishes he'd left more than just a letter. Something to signify the change in the way he looks at her.

The week passes, and she's terrified. Waiting for him to walk through the door, unharmed, to explain why he thought it would be okay to leave while she was sleeping and go off chasing something he won't explain to her, but he never does. She sits at the stairs for hours, watching, and the door doesn't open so much as a crack. And she is so scared, she goes to the chambers where Vision used to sleep, letting herself in and startling at the sight of his desk. Piled high with books of all ages, maps of the kingdoms, books about mystery and magic, historical records of battles, and his handwriting slanting across scrolls of parchment, diagrams and drawings and endless lists.

"Your Highness," comes a reproachful voice, and she wheels around to face Bruce, eyes piercing through his glasses, staring at her. "I didn't realise you were still interested in coming in here." His tone is light, but he raises a pointed eyebrow and she blushes.

"I just want to know what my husband is doing," she says, and Bruce just watches her. "He thinks I was poisoned, and now he's vanished and he told me to raise the alarm if he wasn't back within the week, and he's  _not_ -"

"You  _were_  poisoned," Bruce says, like it's a fact, and she turns to him with wide eyes. "You must understand, Wanda, I was in your father-in-law's employment before I was assigned to help Vision. I'm not just a manservant in that castle, Tony and I were researching the toxin that killed his parents. Uthotin, it's called. Created from the blood of dragons."

"There are no dragons," she says, eyeing Bruce suspiciously. She thought him to be just Vision's manservant, Mantis described him as kind but shy, and yet he's standing in front of her demanding that she believe in myths.

"There were, millenia ago, and their blood can still be traded on the black market," Bruce says darkly. "Uthotin is a slow-acting poison, almost undetectable unless you know what you're looking for. Someone poisoned Tony and his parents, but his younger body detected the poison and made him sick before it could reach his heart. It's a silent killer, the castle assumed he had food poisoning. His parents died from it. And your illness matched perfectly with the way Tony took ill."

"So why would Vision leave?" she asks, and gestures wildly around the room. "Why all this?"

"To protect you," Bruce says simply, leaving her gaping and speechless. "This all has roots in magic, something we know very little about, but we are trying to study. Magic is just science that we cannot yet comprehend. Vision is looking for a man we have been secretly corresponding with, who tells us he knows something that may stop a war before it begins."

"But why all for me?" she asks softly, and Bruce just looks at her. "The way he wrote that note, it sounds like...like this is something that risks his life. Why would he do that for me?"

"Perhaps you should ask him yourself, Highness," he says. "Give him until the end of the day, and then Sam will go looking for him anyway."

And Wanda waits at the bottom of the sweeping staircase, clutching at her wedding ring, waiting for a sound outside.  _Anything_. To know whether he's alive, or whether the unthinkable has happened. Whether she's a widower at twenty-one, her husband gone just as she was becoming sure that she feels  _something_  for him.

The sudden shouting makes her start, guards mobilising, someone pulling her back with a rough, "Out of the way, Your Highness." Everyone is the castle emerging from rooms, curious and frightened faces around, and she stands, hope blooming desperate in her chest.

"What's happening?" she asks the guard near her, and he is silent. "I am your queen, and I  _demand_  to know!"

A crash, and the doors are opening, and she nearly stumbles at the rush of relief when she sees Vision's golden hair, sees him  _alive_  when her imagination had convinced he was not, that she would find a soldier with solemn eyes on her doorstep telling her he was gone. But relief turns almost instantly to horror when she sees that his shirt is soaked red with blood, that there's a bruise dark across his face, and she pushes past the guards trying to hold her back to his side, ghosting her fingers along his cheeks, seeing his eyes threaded with red and smudged with shadows. His hand cups around her waist, a soft smile at the corners of his mouth, and he breathes, " _Wanda_."

"What happened to you?!" she asks frantically, too scared to touch his shirt, to try and pull the material aside, scared she'll see a wound that is killing him, draining the life from him and staining him red with it.

"It looks worse than it is, I promise," he says, and she shakes her head, feeling herself absurdly close to tears, unable to stop touching him. "I'm alright, my darling. I'm  _alright_."

She kisses him, lifting herself onto her tiptoes to bring their mouths together in an achingly desperate kiss, and when he breaks away with a pained rasp of a breath she snaps, "Don't you  _ever_  do that to me again. I was  _terrified_ , I thought I'd lost you, every night I've been dreaming that you were trapped and dying,  _Vision_ -"

"I'm sorry," he breathes, cupping her face between his hands, swiping a tear away with the pad of his thumb. "I'm sorry, it was necessary. I couldn't have you following me, it would place you in harm's way, I needed you here and safe and able to raise the alarm if I never came back."

"Don't say that," she says, barely able to speak around the lump in her throat. "I need to always come back,  _always_ , you have to promise. You have to promise you'll stay with me."

"Perhaps you should know why I left before you ask me to swear, Wanda," he says, and the world around them comes back into focus as she blinks tears away and he turns her to the door. To the guards marching a hooded criminal in chains into the castle, and when the taller of the two pulls the hood away Wanda's hand tightens reflexively around Vision's in utter shock.

"Crystal?"

* * *

"I told you it looked worse than it is," Vision says softly, as Doctor Palmer steps away from him and turns to the centre of the room, where Crystal is in chains, silvery dress torn and stained with dirt, clinging to the obvious roundness of a pregnancy. Not so much the princess of the Moon Kingdom anymore.

"You staggered into the castle covered in blood, what did you expect me to think?" Wanda snaps, running her fingers over the ridged stitches that close the long but shallow wound across her husband's chest. Raising a hand to ghost her fingertips over the bruise across his face, another smaller cut over his eye. "What happened?"

"Perhaps you ought to ask that of our lovely friend," he says thinly, pulling his shirt down over his wound and turning to Crystal, her eyes flashing with hatred when she looks up at him.

"I don't understand," Wanda's mother says, high-pitched and horrified. "We were told you were dead. That your carriage had an accident in the mountains and both you and P-Pietro fell to your deaths."

"The rumours of my death were greatly exaggerated," Crystal says smugly, and the hot leaden weight of hatred settles in Wanda's gut. This woman would've been her sister-in-law, Pietro loved her, and yet she is here in chains, she never died, she's glaring around at the gathering of people and her most contemptuous look is for Vision.

"What about that baby?" she snarls. "Is that my brother's child?"

"Of course, Your Majesty," Crystal snaps contemptuously.

"Tell them the truth," comes a deep voice, and Wanda steps back against Vision in fear when a man materialises as if from nowhere. Dark-haired, pale-eyed, and looking at Crystal solemnly, cloak thrown about his shoulders. "You know I can force you to do so, princess. Don't make this harder for yourself."

" _Stephen_?!" comes a sudden, stricken gasp, and Wanda turns to see Doctor Palmer staring at this man, her eyes wide and hopeful, not the stern doctor she knows.

"Christine," the stranger says softly, and the two of them simply gaze at each other in the lingering silence.

"Django, Marya, I believe you remember the story of Stephen Strange," Vision says, and Wanda's parents turn to him in shock. "He was the spy for the Forest Kingdom in the last days of the war, the one dispatched to the Moon Kingdom to be sure there were no more spies for Thanos in those walls. People believed him to be dead, but I have been corresponding with him for three years, ever since I met him on my travels. We've been investigating the Moon Kingdom for quite some time."

"I don't understand," Wanda's mother says again, her hands shaking. "What happened to Pietro? Is he alive too?"

"Oh no, he's quite dead," Crystal says, and the sound that Wanda's mother lets out is heartbreaking. "We made sure of that when my guards snapped his neck."

"How  _dare_  you?!" Wanda snaps, anger surging as her mother crumples with a heaving sob. "Tell me the truth, or I swear there will be nothing that can stop me having you put to death."

"I thought your family were famed for their compassion," Crystal says coolly. "You would truly kill the girl who carries your future niece or nephew?"

"Your child is not Prince Pietro's," Strange says sharply, a green glow coalescing around his hands. "You will tell Queen Wanda the truth, princess, or I will call on  _my_  power."

"What happened to my brother?" Wanda snarls, Vision's hand at her back the only thing keeping her grounded. "Why did you have him killed?"

"Well, you see,  _highness_ , you were in the way," Crystal says, and Wanda blinks in shock. "It was a love potion that caused your brother to fall head over heels in love with me, of course. But when he was around you, the spell broke. Why else do you think it took three years for us to be married? But he was under my spell, and that left me free to explore intimacy with whoever I chose."

"You  _were_  cheating on him," Wanda says, her voice so cold she almost doesn't recognise it. "How  _could_  you?!"

"Quite easily, actually," Crystal says with a poisonously sweet smile. "When I became pregnant, I thought I could convince him the child was his. But, stupid boy, he saw through me. Said he would have our engagement broken on the grounds of infidelity. I couldn't have that, I needed the throne. So I faked my own death, had him killed, and fled."

"Did you try to poison my wife?" Vision asks, and the anger and venom in his voice is astounding, his arm around Wanda, protective.

"Not me personally, I would never dirty my hands for the sake of  _her_ ," Crystal says, giving Wanda a cruel look, and she bristles. "But yes, I gave the order. I thought that if I turned up after the tragic death of first son then daughter, alive when they had believed me dead, carrying the son's child, I would be welcomed. My child would somehow be able to sit on the throne, with no heirs left. The  _sympathy_  of the Mountain Kingdom would never turn a widow away." Her lip curls, and she snarls. "Where was your  _sympathy_  when you killed my brother, Django?"

"Your brother was a spy for Thanos, plunged into our castle to tear us apart," Wanda's father snaps, occupied comforting his wife. "He killed my best men, Princess Crystal. That does not warrant this vengeance on my kingdom and my family."

"Blood for blood," Crystal says coldly, her eyes silvery and flashing dangerously. "Your son for my brother. Your throne for my family being torn from ours, close to disgrace. Marrying Pietro was only to restore my reputation. To pave the way to a new throne."

"It's  _my_  throne," Wanda snaps. "Mine and my husband's."

"How sweet," Crystal says with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "An arranged marriage that ends in love. As if I don't see through your charade. Your handsome prince, coming alone to the Moon Kingdom and fighting my guards just to bring me back and end the war before it begins. You always were a damsel in distress, Wanda."

"I fight my own battles," Wanda snaps, and looks to Clint, the head of her guard, standing silent at the edge of the room. "Gather all your best men and take Princess Crystal as a guide. March on the Moon Kingdom. Arrest their royal family and their guards. Do no harm to anyone innocent, but use your discretion on those who are not."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Clint says with a wide grin, and drags Crystal from the room still in her chains, and Wanda turns away from everything. As it all sinks in, as she realises that her brother died for  _nothing_ , a casualty of a foolish plan for revenge, her legs seem to collapse beneath her.

Vision catches her, holds her close, and she clings to him, the smell of salt that seems to be a part of him. "It's alright," he breathes, his mouth brushing her cheek, his hand stroking her hair. "You did so well. You've stopped a war before it has the chance to begin."

"She killed Pietro," she says, shaken, and she's trembling so violently she'd fall if he wasn't holding her up. "She...she tried to kill me too. How...how..."

"It's alright," he repeats softly. "It's over. I'm sorry I left without telling you, but Stephen asked for my discretion. We didn't know if we could successfully find Crystal, never mind capture her. I just...I wanted you to know what she did. I wanted to help you prevent war with the Moon Kingdom. To keep you  _safe_."

"But why?" she asks, lifting her head from his shoulder and gazing up at him. "Why would you do all this? Why would you risk your life for me?"

"You're my wife," he says, like it's that simple. "Surely this is what anyone would do for their wife."

"But...this is so much," she says. "You...why?"

"I just wanted to protect you," he says after a lingering silence. And then he lets go of her, leaves the room, and she is left watching the door swing slightly on its hinges behind him.

* * *

"I guess we owe your husband a debt of gratitude," Peter says, and Wanda just smiles, looking to Vision engaged deep in conversation with Thor, both of them looking solemn while Jane holds her fiancé's hand. "Smart guy."

Gamora rolls her eyes expressively, and Wanda laughs softly. "He's a good guy," she says, feeling her gaze softening as she looks at Vision. "He'll have a scar for the rest of his life because of what he did for me...us."

" _Us_?" Gamora asks, arching an expressive eyebrow. "C'mon, Wanda, you're not that stupid. You know he did all that for you."

"Yep!" Peter says cheerfully, smiling at his fiancé and then grinning at Wanda. "I reckon he's absolutely crazy about you."

"Don't be silly," Wanda says, feeling a blush rising in her cheeks. "Taking the Moon Kingdom down was vengeance for his family as much as mine."

"Whatever you say, Majesty," Peter says with a wicked grin, and Wanda just rolls her eyes. His gaze shifts to her parents, talking with Thor's silver-haired father and his beautiful mother at the edge of the room. "How are your parents holding up with the revelation that their son was murdered?"

"I think they're okay," she says, watching her mother smile and laugh at something Thor's mother says. "We've been mourning him for months, after all. It just came as a shock, but we'll bring justice to Crystal for doing it."

"I knew you could never trust anyone from the Moon Kingdom," Peter says smugly, and Gamora just shakes her head. "We should go, I have yet another meeting with my advisors. Good luck with the husband, Wanda."

Bidding her friends goodbye, kisses to the cheek and smiles, Wanda goes to Vision's side as Thor and Jane are distracted by Natasha, and links her arm through his. "The kingdoms owe you thanks, Vision," she says softly, and he turns his head and smiles down at her.

"I don't need their gratitude," he says. "Just to know that you and your family are safe from any harm."

"Hail the conquering hero!" comes a shout, and Wanda looks icily up at her father-in-law, Anthony crossing the room with arms thrown theatrically wide, Virginia at his side with her dress beginning to cling to the swell of pregnancy. "Who would ever have thought that my son would save us all from war one day?"

"Certainly not you, Father," Vision says coldly, though now she knows the story Wanda can hear the hurt behind it. "You never considered me anything but a mistake."

"An accident," Anthony says, very quietly. "Not a mistake, Victor. I never considered you a mistake."

"Look," Wanda says softly, squeezing Vision's arm where her hand is resting, "perhaps we should all talk privately?"

"A marvellous idea, Wanda," Virginia says, giving her a secret smile, and they both lead their husbands out of the busy main rooms of the castle and into privacy, where the lights burn lower and the voices from the halls are faded.

"You two need to talk," Wanda says sternly, while Anthony and Vision stubbornly avoid each other's gazes. "Please. I would like to live my life as part of a family that likes each other."

"I agree," Virginia says, and Wanda grins at her mother-in-law. "I will not bring this baby into the world as long as your first child doesn't understand how much you love him, Tony."

"You  _never_  loved me," Vision spits, and there are tears in his eyes that make Wanda ache to comfort him, and Anthony looks utterly stricken. "You only took me in out of duty, and you  _lied_  to me for years! I was just a mistake of your youth."

"Is that really what you think?" Anthony asks, sounding so sad, and Vision nods, wiping his eyes. "Victor, you weren't a mistake! I was young and stupid when I was your mother, yes, but you have no idea how I felt about Isla. She was my first love, Victor. And I thought that perhaps I could persuade my parents that it would be alright if we married, but then..." He shudders, Virginia laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "My parents were assassinated just before your mother told me she was pregnant. I was in no shape to be a father, I had advisors whispering in my ears, and I'm ashamed of what I did. I should never have left her in the circumstances she was in, and I have regretted it every day since."

"But why did you  _lie_  to me?!" Vision asks through a sob, and Wanda goes to him, clutching his hand.

"Vision, you were seven years old, you'd lost your grandfather and your mother, I  _couldn't_  uproot your life by telling you I was your father," Anthony says. "I'd had Rhodey keeping an eye on you while you grew up, I thought that maybe you'd be ready to know one day. Maybe Isla would want to see me again. But you must understand I never considered you a mistake. I love you, Victor. You're my  _son_." He pulls Virginia closer, tears in his eyes, and says, "I may be expecting another child who will have the greater claim to the throne, but you are my firstborn. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you."

"I..." Vision trails off, seemingly at a loss for words, and pulls his hand from Wanda's grip. "Father, I... _Father_."

And the two men fall into each other's arms, Virginia crying, and Wanda is swallowing thickly and trying not to cry herself. It's ridiculous, Anthony is Vision's father, not hers. And yet, this is her family too. The ring on her hand makes sure of that.

She speaks to more of the crowds of officials in her castle, snatches a conversation with Natasha that she spends most of dodging her oldest friend's questions about her marriage, and night is falling before Vision emerges from the room where she left him, tear-stained but smiling. He crosses the almost-empty room to her, kisses her and says, "My father and I are going to the tavern for the evening. He wants to talk more, tell me stories about my mother. Will you be alright without me?"

"I'm fine, go," she says, and he smiles and kisses her again. As he pulls away, she smiles up at him and says, "I'm glad you reconciled with him, Vision. You deserve to be happy."

"I am," he says softly, and presses a kiss to the top of her head. Watching him leave, she smiles to herself and goes to bid her parents goodnight before she retires to her chambers and slips quickly into sleep, exhausted from the weeks since the attack on the Moon Kingdom.

When she wakes, it's to dawn creeping into the room, striping the room silver, and Vision lying beside her, sound asleep. Straightening up, affection a warm swell in her chest looking down at him, the silvery scar across his chest from the wound he received trying to protect her, she leans down and kisses his temple before she slips out of bed, her lace nightgown falling around her.

Opening the balcony doors for the rush of air, she grins up at the sky in delight seeing the rain falling, driving down against the grass. Making everything greener, fresher, filling the air with the scent of promise, and despite wearing only inadequate white lace she rushes onto the balcony, tipping her head up for the rain to fall on her face, catching in her eyelashes, sticking her hair to her skin and soaking her nightgown though, moulding it to her body like a second skin. The water rushing over her, the way she imagines it might feel to plunge into the ocean, and she's laughing in delight, like a child.

Raindrops running down her face, her neck, softening her skin and flushing it with the cold, she turns and finds Vision quietly watching her, leaning against the doorframe. A small smile playing around the corners of his mouth, and they stand gazing into each other's moment for a long moment, silent but for the rhythm of the rain around them, her breathing going shallow.

And then he crosses the balcony in two short strides and he's kissing her, hungry and passionate, and she's kissing him back, moaning softly against his mouth as his hand drops to her breast, her nightgown so thin there may as well be no barrier between their skin. She traces her fingers over his scar and he groans low in his throat, pressing her back against the fence, and breaks the kiss in a rush, brushing coils of wet hair aside to kiss down her neck, his lips so hot amongst the cool of the rain, and she's clinging to him, threading her fingers into his wet hair. His hands are at her waist as his mouth dips down, his tongue on her skin, his thumb circling her nipple and then his lips, and she's gasping, groaning his name, clutching white-knuckled at the fence.

He's dropping to his knees, she's staring down at him wide-eyed, and sliding his hands over her legs, tucking her skirt up and pressing hot kisses up the insides of her thighs, and one of her hands drops to the back of his head, urging him closer, she's whispering a litany of, " _Yes_ ," over and over and over again, his name a prayer on her lips. He's gazing up at her, the blue of his eyes darkened with want, and her knees go to liquid, she sags back against the fence at the first touch of his tongue where she wants him, crying out, her nails digging into his scalp in desperation. He clutches at her so tightly, fingertips biting bruises into her hips, tongue moving faster and faster, she's trembling and hot and  _aching_ , and when his thumb flicks over her she cries out his name and loses herself, his mouth still on her, his passion so obvious.

She pulls him away from her, hardly able to breathe, and he's standing up and breathing, "I would like to kiss you," and she's snatching him close, her arms wound tightly around him, holding him so close she feels like she can't breathe with him, his lips so soft and warm against hers, his arms circling her waist as she opens her mouth against his.

This kiss is like no other in their marriage, so passionate but so tender, the way Vision slows the movement of their mouths and holds her close, draws her against him. She knows this kiss. It's the kiss she fantasised about for years, thought of every night, imagined growing into something more, and she tears herself away from him and stares up at him, the rain somehow enhancing the blue of his eyes, his golden hair sticking in damp whorls to his forehead. "I've thought of that every day," she says softly, and he smiles bashfully. "But I never imagined it would be like  _that_."

"I would like to keep kissing you, my queen," he says, and leans in again, his hands in her hair, and she's clutching at the broadness of his shoulders.

"You've been fencing more," she says, and he laughs softly against her cheek, preoccupied with the unbuttoning of her nightgown.

"Not much else to do in a kingdom surrounded by mountains," he says, and then his hands still. And he leans back, gazing down at her wide-eyed. "Where I...I'm not close to one of the more private beaches in the kingdom by the sea."

"I've always dreamed of seeing the sea," she says, hardly able to breathe, gazing up at the bright blue of Vision's eyes. Blue as the sea, blue as the eyes she gazed into when she was sixteen and falling madly in love with her stranger.  _Exactly_  as blue.

"I...I would t-take you to see it," he says, and she lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, breathless. "Wanda...o-oh,  _Wanda_ , I-"

"It's you," she breathes, cupping his face between her hands, tears burning behind her eyes. "It's  _you_. You're  _him_. You're my stranger!" She kisses him again, utterly helpless, and he holds her, kisses her back with just the same passion, and when they part she's crying, gasping out, "Why didn't you come  _back_ , I looked for you, I wanted to find you again, I wanted to tell you I-"

"I love you," he says, breathless and rough and tremulous with emotion, clutching her so impossibly close, like he can't bear to ever let go of her. "I love you, I wanted to find you, but the next year I'd just found out I was Tony's biological son and run away, I didn't go to the ball, but I looked for you, I looked  _everywhere_ , I wanted you for my wife, I  _wanted_  you-"

"I love you," she gasps out, and kisses him, and his tears are warm and wet against her skin, his hair damp between her fingers, she's pressing herself into him, he's her husband and her stranger and she loves him, she  _loves_  him. "I love you, I love you, I  _love_  you, I...wait."

She pulls herself away from him, darts back into the bedroom, dripping water all over the floor and the rugs as she rifles through her drawers, and comes back up with a length of delicate deep red silk, overlayed with black lace, and turns back to face Vision, holding it up to her face. "I wasn't wearing white lace and soaked through at the time," she says, and he's crying in earnest, stepping closer and kissing her forehead. "I kept it, I kept it because I fell in love at the ball, I fell in love with  _you_ , I didn't even know you but it was love at first sight, I swear, every day for five years I wanted you."

"I love you," he whispers into another kiss, his hands warm against her back where her nightgown is unbuttoned, and she's wrapping herself around him, he's carrying her to the bed and laying her down across it, another, "I love you," breathed against her neck as he pulls her nightgown from her arms, and she can't stop staring at him, how  _beautiful_  he is, with tears still silvery on his cheeks. "I love you, Wanda, I love you, I won't ever stop."

"Make love to me," she says, and he groans low in his chest and kisses her, pulling her nightgown off her and sliding his hands up her stomach to cup her breasts, caressing and drawing a moan from her. "I love you, Vision, I love you  _so much_."

Her hands fall, pushing his pants from his hips, and he's naked above her, her stranger the way she dreamed him, and he's her husband, their wedding rings clashing when he grips her hand and rolls her on top of him, and she can't stop touching him, can't stop  _kissing_  him, when he's inside her she groans his name and breathes, " _I love you_ ," and he says it too, they say it over and over again while they move together, holding each other so close, his breath warm on her neck when she bucks and cries out his name. She kisses him, holds him, smiles at the way he groans her name, and when they're done she rolls off him and curls into his side, and he turns his head and smiles and kisses her.

They separate slowly to dress, forever glancing at each other, and she can't stop seeing him, her husband, and the man from five years ago, the stranger she dreamed of finding her fairytale ending with for five years, and he's here, he's standing right in front of her, lifting her hand to his lips and placing a kiss over her engagement ring. The ring  _he_  gave her. "I love you," he says, and she beams, knowing she's shining.

"I love you too," she says softly, and they're smiling and laughing going to breakfast, holding hands, her in his lap while they eat, kisses exchanged and him feeding her pieces of fruit.

"You two have certainly crossed into a new line of familiarity," her mother comments while Vision insistently helps the servants clear the table, and Wanda is staring at him with a softened gaze, besotted.

"It's  _him_ , Mama!" she says brightly, and her mother just gazes at her. "Vision is my stranger! The man I met at the masquerade ball!"

"I know," her mother says, and Wanda turns to her in shock, seeing the secret smile pulling at the corners of her mother's mouth. "Sweetheart, we talked to Tony and Pepper while we stayed with them about the man you were hung up on, the reason your and Vision's marriage was a little rocky to begin. And when we told them you met five years ago at a masquerade ball, they told us Victor was hung up on a woman he met five years ago at a masquerade ball. One doesn't have to be a genius to put that puzzle together."

"Why didn't you  _tell_ me?" Wanda asks, and her mother just shakes her head fondly.

"By the time we returned from the Ocean Kingdom, it was obvious you were falling in love with Vision without knowing him to be the same man," she says, and Wanda blushes. "So you are happy, sweetheart?"

"I've never been happier," she promises, and smiles at Vision. Her stranger. Her husband. Her  _future_.

* * *

Sand isn't exactly like Wanda imagined. It's silkier, sliding warm between her toes, sticking to her skin, and she can feel it rough in her hair, pale flecks against the green of her dress. Vision is smiling at her, bare-chested from a swim in the ocean, while she sat letting the sand run through her fingers and watching him, the shine of the water on his back, his hair slicked back, the way the salt scent clings to his skin when he draws her close and kisses her temple, softly saying, "I told you I'd take you to see the ocean one day."

"It only took you six years," she teases, and he shakes his head fondly, kissing her temple again. "It's beautiful. Everything I dreamed of." She turns and smiles into his eyes, adding, "Just like you," before she kisses him.

"I thought being married for a year was supposed to calm the public displays of affection," comes the comment behind them, and Wanda turns to Tony standing over them, three-month-old Morgan in his arms, the baby squinting down at Wanda with his father's eyes, chubby fists filled with sand. "Why don't you take a dip, Wanda? It's the perfect temperature today."

"I'm fine, Tony, thank you," Wanda says, snuggling into Vision's arm around her. Giving Morgan a smile and giggling at his perturbed expression.

"I'm taking the little monster back to the castle," Tony says, and Morgan squeals loudly, like he understand the comment. "You two enjoy some privacy. Dinner is at six."

"We'll be on time, Dad," Vision says, and Wanda smiles at the two men exchanging a grin before Tony walks away from them, and Vision is pulling her on top of him, smiling at her in the sunlight. "I dreamed about bringing you here for so long," he says softly, and she smiles down at him, propping herself up on his chest, tracing her fingertip over the faded scar. "There was an idea I had that I would propose to you on this beach. My favourite place in the world."

"I like that idea," she says softly, and he grins, so happy.

"Marry me," he breathes, and she lowers her head to kiss him in between his words. "Marry me. Every day for the rest of our lives. Be my wife."

"I will," she promises, and kisses him, tasting the salt on his lips.

They stumble back up to the castle hand in hand, the sand clinging to her skin, Vision's loose shirt open over his still-damp chest, and his wet hair thick with sand, she's smiling as she tries to brush it out, the grains glinting pale on the stone floors of his bedroom. Opening a drawer to put his hairbrush away, she finds a small leather book, and glances at him curiously. "My diary," he says softly, taking it from her hand. "I thought it might have been thrown away by now. I kept it until the day Dad told me who I really was."

"So you kept it when we met?" she asks, and he nods, a slight flush staining the tops of his cheekbones, and she grins eagerly, flipping through the pages until she happens upon a drawing. A doodle, really, of a dark-haired girl and a golden-haired boy, holding hands. Her mask, black and red, and his, that shiny green like fronds of seaweed. Leaning away from his hands grabbing for it, she reads out, "'Dear diary, today I met an _extremely_ pretty girl at the masquerade ball. She had hair as dark and gleaming as chestnuts and eyes as green as emeralds' oh, darling, you're so descriptive," she giggles, and Vision is blushing fiercely. "'We danced and we talked and we kissed in the shadows. It was my first kiss _ever_!'" She glances at him, so bashful, and softly says, "Mine too." He smiles then, and she glances back down at the page and finishes, "'I want to marry her one day and take her to the ocean. Diary, I believe I am in love...'"

"I was," he says softly, drawing her close and taking the diary from her hands. "That boy never truly dreamed he would marry that pretty girl one day."

"And now you've taken me to the ocean," she says, and he smiles, and they fall into a gentle kiss.

"I'll teach you to swim another day," he promises, throwing his shirt to the floor and rolling his shoulders, and she stares in fascination at the way he's beginning to tan, his skin turning pale gold. "When Dad doesn't insist on bringing Morgan down."

"I like Morgan," she says, and Vision just shakes his head. "We have to change for dinner, you can't show up looking like that."

"I saw you staring while I was swimming, darling," he says, smirking, and she rolls her eyes as she unbuttons her dress, letting it fall around her feet and leaving her in just her petticoat and corset. "Oh...oh, _Wanda_."

"What?" she asks, turning around to find him gazing at her in wonder. "What's wrong? I didn't think I cut myself when I slipped on that rockpool, did I? Do you see it?"

"You're _showing_ ," he breathes, and she looks down at herself. Without her dress to hide it, she can see that her belly is beginning to curve, a small but distinct bump showing itself the longer she looks, and she cups her hand over it and smiles softly.

"I guess I am," she says, and Vision is out of the chair at his dressing table and in front of her, lacing their fingers together over her bump. "Maybe we'll have to tell people before Peter and Gamora's wedding. He'll never let me hear the end of it for stealing his limelight."

"You're _showing_ ," he gasps out again, and kisses her softly, then drops to his knees and presses his lips to her belly, pressing his forehead against her skin. "Our _baby_." Another kiss against her bump, her smiling down at him, and he's looking up and smiling. "Thomas Pietro."

"It might be a girl," she says, and runs a hand through his damp hair. "Vivian Isla."

"I'll love them no matter what," he says, and stands, pulling her close. "Thomas or Vivian, I will love our baby. Just like I love you."

"I love you too," she says softly, and pulls him close to kiss him, his hand curved over her belly. Keeping her and their baby safe. Her perfect stranger, the man she kissed in the shadows when she was sixteen and ended up marrying, just the way she always wanted.

Her happily-ever-after.


End file.
